


War and Courtship

by Sav572



Series: The Wolf and the Demon [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Confessions, Courtship, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury Recovery, Not Beta Read, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Scars, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Sparring, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2020-11-27 03:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 92,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20941196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sav572/pseuds/Sav572
Summary: The story of Felix's and Byleth's unconventional courtship during the Fódlan Unification War.





	1. The First Battle of Garreg Mach (Lone Moon 1181)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of Garreg Mach leaves Felix on the run

Before the professor was cast into a cliff for her five-year nap, even before the terrifying white dragon appeared out of nowhere. Felix sensed something was going to go wrong during the battle of Garreg Mach.

The young student had gotten comfortable with a certain flow of battle alongside his professor. Usually, they moved in synchronization, never straying far from one another. He felt like they could read each other’s minds when it came to the battlefield. A slice of his blade here opened a path for his professor to step into for an advance. A slice of her blade there and a flanking enemy Felix missed was felled. He could always count that she would be within eyesight, mowing their enemies down together. 

Garreg Mach’s battlefield that night was covered in smoke from fires breaking out. Felix's orders had been to hold the line that his professor had drawn up to protect the archers and mages on the ramparts. He could only follow the red glow of the Sword of the Creator as smoke burned his eyes and filled his lungs.

The nick of a blade into his arm, a retaliation into an enemy's gut with his silver blade. Somewhere to his right, Felix heard the distinctive whip-like snap of her sword, tearing into a demonic beast by the sound that followed. Another slice of his blade through a horse that the archers and mages above hadn’t been able to stop. The foolish cavalryman had attempted to trample through the formation. 

When there was a reprieve in the fighting, Felix let himself think they had actually managed a miracle. He watched the red glow surge, then disappear deeper into the smoke. But an order from the professor to advance never followed. Dread gripped the young swordsman. His training told him to hold his position, but something else inside screamed at him to give chase into the smoke. _What is that idiot professor thinking?_

The sound of a horn to fall back echoed through the ruins around him. The young swordsman stumbled up the staircase and shoved his way past his fellow students manning the ramparts. With dread, he scanned the field. _ Where is that damn glow? Where is that damnable professor’s damn red glow? _

An onslaught of reinforcements appeared on the horizon, rallying towards the standard bearing Edelgard’s crest. The standard that would have been on the other side of the smoke that swallowed the professor. _Fuck_.._.the professor_ _didn’t. She couldn’t be... _

His mind didn't dare to finish the sentence but it didn’t have to. The boy swallowed the bile he felt rising. He had to flee **now.**

A mysterious dragon delayed the enemy troops just enough for at least him, to scatter on a horse into the dark. He was determined to evade capture, and the inevitable execution sure to follow. Without a care if the horse collapsed, Felix rode through the night. The only possessions with him; his armor, a dagger, a whetstone, and the silver sword the professor had gifted him. Nowhere was safe to rest. He was being hunted by the empire to near exhaustion, and often near starvation from lack of resources.

Almost two weeks passed before the horror of the battle of Garreg Mach set in. That day was a particularly bad day of traveling. A farmer had recognized what was left of his mud, soaked academy uniform. The fool demanded money (which Felix didn't have) to buy off his silence. A flash of Felix's dagger against the fool's neck and another day of survival was secured.

Dinner, a rabbit he managed to snare, roasted around a small fire that night. Felix drew his silver sword to perform the overdue maintenance on it. The blade needed to be cleaned and sharpened. The leather cushioning the silver grip was falling off and becoming frayed. The swordsman decided the material on the grip would need to be rewrapped for now and replaced later. 

The reddish leather was quickly unwound and tossed over his shoulder to keep it out of the way. He was surprised however when he grabbed the grip in order to begin to clean the blade. There was a texture to it, no more accurate there was etching into the silver. He moved his hand over to the guard inching the handle to the fire. His stomach turned when he read the inscription. 

_ An aid in finding your drive to become strong -Byleth Eisner _

How was he supposed to take this message? He thought this was just another sword, a prize for him beating his professor once. Now, this sword was a thought out gift that must have taken weeks to produce. A thoughtful gift from that damnable dead woman.

Memories of that disastrous battle had been successfully suppressed from his thoughts until that night. He hadn’t given chase when his instinct told him to, and he still wasn’t strong enough to protect anyone he cared about. There was no going back to the monastery, if she was alive he would have seen her. She was dead, and he did nothing. This time adrenaline couldn’t stop him from emptying the contents of his stomach. It never occurred to him that he had just admitted to himself, that he cared for his deceased professor. 

He wiped his mouth and shook the awful memories from his head. He had to survive, his drive to become strong needed to be simply to survive. Just like her drive was. He rewrapped the leather onto the grip, hiding her final words.

The war against the Empire raged on. Each passing year memories of his academy days became easier to push to the back of his mind when he had a rare moment to let his mind wander. The silver sword’s leather had been replaced numerous times over the five years, but he never again dared to look at the inscription. However, he could not bear to part with it, going to far as to carry two swords into battle when he commissioned his own to suit his more recent tastes. 

At the end of the Red Wolf Moon, the front he was sent to was slowly crumbling. Since the beginning the Empire always had the upper hand, they were more organized, which made them better supplied and manned. Meanwhile, the chaos in the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus led to miscommunications and shortages. Here in the southern theater, they would be paying for the ground with yet another retreat, allowing the empire even more rope to strangle the dying Kingdom.

At a meeting in the command tent Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain stood on the outside while veteran officers argued over the next course of action. 

It was Ingrid who brought up the monastery. “So next month would be the Millenium Festival, hard to believe it's already been five years.”

Sylvain nodded his head “And the army is falling back with its tail between its legs. This is the best chance we’ll get to break off and continue south to Garreg Mach. I wonder how many of us are going to be able to make it.”

Felix couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He was surrounded by naive idiots. “Why would we go to Garreg Mach? It's still in ruins. There hasn’t been a church presence there since the war began. There is no Millenium Festival, so no reason to go back to that forsaken ruin.”

Ingrid shot him a disgusted glare. “We promised the professor, Dimitri, and the other lions to meet up for the Festival. You know that Felix.”

“Tch. There is a war going on, and you two think we should desert it for a promise made to the dead. You can count me out of the meetup.”

He had said that. However, when his two childhood friends departed he found himself joining them. He told himself that he was traveling merely to protect his idiot friends from themselves. They would go down, be disappointed when no one else showed, and then trudge back and continue to struggle. Why would anything change? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad news: I got stuck on a chapter of The Lies of Ever After  
Good news: I cranked this out


	2. Hunting by Daybreak (Ethereal Moon 1185)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio returns to Garreg Mach to fulfill a promise to the dead. A sparring session between Felix and Byleth brings out some truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assume Byleth will be in some form of her during battle [mercenary](https://pm1.narvii.com/7229/2cbd16ec426560ac48dc3755811fd7015a07a01cr1-1366-768v2_hq.jpg) attire until the weather warms up.

Garreg Mach was a mess of rubble and bones when the trio arrived deep into the night. From the reports they had expected several bandits, so Felix was unsurprised when he saw flashes of magic in the air. 

“I suppose we aren’t alone with the bandits after all.” Felix admitted to his two companions. ”I'll lend a hand. We’ll catch up with them later. We can’t have our schoolmates die over this idiotic promise.” 

Felix galloped his horse closer to the sounds of battle before dismounting. Above him, Ingrid on a pegasus, scouted around to see who the noises were coming from. Sylvain passed him, spurring his horse towards the sound of clashing steel. Nearby a set of stairs ascended, to a rampart. The swordsman needed a better view of the field anyway, and hopefully with luck archers could be cleared out. The sooner he had the skies clear of danger, the sooner Ingrid could secure the ground

Felix’s blade skewered through the back of a bandit, distracted by the commotion of Sylvain and his battalion who arrived on the killing floor below. At the top, he scanned the wreckage of the field. Below, hidden away in a ruin, Mercedes and Ashe were illuminated by white healing magic. Ashe was pointing into the distance, tears running down his cheeks. _ Frivolous. _Felix thought as they embraced. 

Along the wall Felix charged, dispatching two additional archers. He scanned the wall again; looking for additional ranged threats. Below Sylvain had appeared to have reached Gilbert, and Annett, the source of the flash of magic he saw earlier. She was speaking to the paladin excitedly which Felix thought was highly inappropriate given the number of bandits still alive. 

A jolt of an arrow against Felix’s armor, the force sent him backward against the wall. Felix flipped the enemy over the battlement when the archer reached for an arrow to notch. 

Another scan, this time just below. Felix couldn’t explain to himself why his eyes kept scanning the battleground that was clearly out of reach of his sword. He felt a pit in his stomach, he was beginning to regret his decision to come along, bandits or not. _ Keep moving there might be more bandits. _ He reminded himself.

A clash of blades against a brute of a man. When Felix’s sword slid through, the body didn’t immediately release his armament back. It was cases such as today which made him carry a second weapon. Today he had time to extract the blade before moving on but it was a comfort to know he wasn’t defenseless. Sheathing his sword, Felix descended a pair of stairs to join his classmates in the fray. Mindlessly Felix’s thumb found the pommel of the silver sword and traced a circle around it. His feet felt heavier than he remembered when he ascended. 

He could hear the clashing of metal nearby. At least he wasn’t about to exit into an ambush. A distinct sound grabbed his attention; the loud whiplike snap of bone. He now took the stairs down two at a time, and nearly slammed into Mercedes. She was tending to a hunched over man in black in the archway. The medic tried to get Felix’s attention to no avail; emitting from the fray outside was that goddess blessed, damn red glow. 

Through allies and enemies, Felix shoved and slashed to chase after the glow. He had no order to disobey his instinct. When mint green hair peaked just beyond his grasp, Felix figured the arrow earlier had hit an artery, not his armor. The professor was dead...what he saw must be blood loss.

A block from the Aegis Shield against an ax-wielding bandit kept him from one last look at the imaginary professor before he surely bled out. A bone-like relic plunged through the enemy's shoulder. _ Is this real? Is the professor alive? Am I not bleeding out? Where the hell has this damnable woman been the last five years? _

Felix fell in line to the left of his very much alive professor. The former mercenary's armor was still muddied and bloodied identical to five years ago. Quickly Felix fell into the strangely nostalgic rhythm of combat. A shove of Felix's shield to push back the thinning numbers.

With a hard gulp, Felix spoke. “Fancy meeting you here. A welcome surprise.” 

The crack of the Sword of the Creator sent another wave of bandits to the ground. 

"Fraldarius." The professor gave Felix a curt nod when her narrowed green eyes met his. "Glad you could join us." 

Something about her stance caught Felix's eye when she retracted her blade; she was heavily favoring her right side. Something happened, but the middle of battle was not the time to find out.

* * *

The next three days were a flurry of activity. The Knights of Seiros funneled back into Garreg Mach and brought with them more manpower to help rebuild the ruined monastery, but more mouths to feed. With the town nearby abandoned many of the things Felix took for granted became luxuries. The food was bland, and the days of reconstruction were long. Winter had begun to set in, the damage to the structures became more obvious each time a draft swept through a room.

To Felix's irritation during that time, try as he might to get his professor alone to talk, she always seemed to have one individual or another with her seeking attention or guidance like a lost puppy. On the morning of the fourth day, Felix caught his professor alone in the training grounds. She was slumped behind one of the pillars towards the back. Her mint hair peeking around the side was the only reason he spotted her.

Felix swallowed the lump in his throat and grabbed two wooden swords from the rack. There were training dummies all over the room, but he convinced himself the only one he wanted to use was on the back wall where she was.

Felix gave his professor a side glance as he passed. Her mint hair was tied into a tight bun. He recognized what she wore as the garments under her combat armor. A laced up black bodice covered a long, loose white blouse. The belt containing the Sword of the Creator did not rest around her grey riding pants. Rather it rested on the floor under her knees.

The professor's eyes appeared to be engrossed in a stack of papers. Even when Felix knew he was in her field of vision she didn't bother to look up at him. He couldn’t tell if she was unaware of him, or if she was trying to ignore his presence. Both possibilities aggravated him. The swordsman put the wooden tip of a blade to his professor’s throat. 

Felix defaulted to his usual harsh tone. "Your five-year disappearance spoiled your awareness, Professor."

The woman grasped the wooden blade and pulled it away from her neck, her eyes still firmly engrossed in the papers. "I'm just here to have a moment to myself so I can think...I won't bother your training."

"And soiled your drive as well." 

Felix was aware he was goading his professor on. He wanted answers about why she had left, and to check the injury she hid from her students. The fastest way to get her to spar was to prod her competitive nature. The swordsman offered the hilt of the other wooden sword to the professor. She exhaled and reluctantly accepted it. 

"I should have known the lone wolf of Fraldarius would only be here looking for prey to spar with."

Her green eyes rose to meet his. Felix’s ears immediately felt warm; he pried his vision to the portion of the pillar just above his professor's head. Felix continued to goad her on. 

“You were hiding behind that pillar earlier.”

She let out an amused sigh “You aren’t the only predator stalking me Fraldarius.”

Felix grumbled under his breath “I have...no idea what you’re talking about.” _ Shit, of course, the damn woman noticed me. _

Byleth attached her relic belt around her waist, the duo stepped into the dirt arena. The professor used the wooden weapon to stretch out, just like she would before the morning seminars of his youth.

“Seteth stalks the faculty level of the monastery, asking if I have made any progress through those...” Byleth pointed at the papers where she was sitting earlier with the tip of the blade. “...scouting reports hoping that I will find something they missed about Rhea.”

Felix thought he was intimately familiar with this stretching routine, being one of the few students who showed up early to the seminar consistently. However, when the professor bent over to stretch out her hamstrings, he noticed how well her riding pants shaped her curves. A warmth pooled into Felix’s gut.

_ Did the professor always stretch like this in the mornings? _

Felix shook his head dismissing the distraction.

“I would normally go to the greenhouse for peace while gardening, but it too is full of activity. Ashe has been leading the effort, working himself to the bone. At least his questions about medical herbs and edible spices not stocked will end once the first crop is finished. Gilbert has been ambushing me, even in my room about Dimitri. And whatever is left of him is haunting the cathedral. So yes I was here to get away and work in quiet.”

Elongating her back, she stretched upwards. Her blouse untucked from her riding pants and rose. Felix stepped backward in shock; the former mercenary’s porcelain back was marred by purplish-black lines. The warm feeling in his stomach turned ice cold. Felix could confront her now, but he reasoned it would end with her dismissing him and not dealing with her injury.

The professor turned towards him with her training sword upright, in the ready position. After Felix returned the gesture, he broadcasted the first few blows allowing the professor to get back into their routine. As they built a steady rhythm to their blows, Felix increased the power he put into them.

“What happened five years ago, Professor? You drilled it into our brains to never break a formation solo.”

“Heh, I’m glad to see that you listened to something in my tactics class. I saw Edelgard isolated and took a gamble. If it had worked...she was warped away before I could close the gap.”

The professor seemed content to simply stay on the defensive and parry away his blows as they increased in furry. Each time he lunged she would step away keeping her left side away from danger.

“But it didn’t work and I lost my only worthy adversary for five years. Five damn years Professor. What does a mentor do for five years that makes her unable to contact her students?”

What followed between the next series of blows was the sharing of stories. An impossible tale of a sleeping professor, which if not for the person telling the story Felix would have thought a farce. Then Felix’s tale of the boy who grew into a man overnight and continued to harden for five years out of necessity. In the end, Felix’s shoulders felt lighter than they had in years. The professor was still on the defensive. Whether it was her injury, or her just letting him work through his thoughts he couldn’t tell. 

“You know Professor, I would feel better if you took this seriously. This isn’t the morning seminar. You’re allowed to go on the offensive.” The professor bit her lip. “Unless you’re yielding to me without trying.”

The familiar competitive spark in the professor's eyes lit up. Felix calculated his best shot to make her yield. The swordsman knew his own best quality with the sword was his footwork. He was lighter on his feet and faster at maneuvering the field than his professor. Meanwhile, her best quality was the foresight she gained from years of experience. Her movement on the battlefield was heavier and more deliberate than his. When in the heat of battle it led to bone-shaking blows against whatever was on the other end of her blade. Luckily it appeared the professor’s movement was hindered, her blows didn't have the follow-through they should have. All he needed to do was draw her into a trap and strike her weak spot.

The next time their swords clashed, as the professor pressed forward to push Felix off his stance, he rolled off of her blade. With his fist, he punched into the spot where he saw the badly bruised skin. The professor yelled out as her knees buckled, sending her stumbling into the dirt onto her knees. Gently, Felix pressed the tip of the sword into her weak spot. Her eyes were clamped shut with a grimace of pain across her lips.

“Shitshitshit. I yield, I yield.” Her voice steadied, at least it tried to. “It's a shame I don’t have anything to give you for your second victory.”

_ Is she trying to change the subject with a joke? _

Felix was annoyed and done with his professor’s stubbornness. “Take off your shirt Professor.”

The Sword of the Creator began to be unsheathed. “Excuse me?” 

Felix realized in horror what he had said, his entire face felt like it was on fire. “Fuck, that...that...that is not what I meant. I saw the bruising while you were stretching. I only beat you because I knew you were injured. You need a healer, you idiot. If you’re uncomfortable letting me examine your injury, let me get Mercedes.”

His professor lifted herself off of the arena floor and dusted off her knees. Felix was stunned when she removed her bodice and wrapped her right arm under her breasts to hold the blouse in place. The white fabric lifted, the bruising was worse than Felix managed to get a peek of. The lines covered most of her left-back, extending well past the shirt that still covered her left shoulder.

“How? Who?” Felix scoffed with disgust when he immediately had his answer. “The fucking boar lost control.”

“Dimitri thought I was a ghost and shoved me against a pillar. When he realized I was alive, he called me an imperial spy and started applying pressure. I’m not going to show you the bruise from the Crest of Blaiddyd on my front.” The professor turned around, letting the fabric of the blouse drop. Byleth rested her palm on his shoulder for a moment. “I can appreciate your concern for me, but now you know why I’m going to let the bruising heal naturally. If you want to discuss this more, we can talk over dinner.” 

Even after her palm was removed the warmth lingered like a ray of sunshine. 

“Tonight?”_ Did that sound overeager?_

The edge of the professor’s mouth curved upwards. “It’s my turn to check on Dimitri tonight or I would say yes. I’m heading to the closest hamlet tomorrow with Annette and Mercedes for supplies, and clothes other than this.” She tugged at her blouse. “As long as they don’t delay us too long with my personal shopping, I should be back before dinner if you're able to join me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Fancy meeting you here. A welcome surprise._ Is actually the dialogue Felix uses when he speaks directly to Byleth during that first post-time-skip battle. 
> 
> If there is anything someone would like a take on that would happen during the war phase, feel free to suggest it. If it makes sense in my head, I'll see what I can do.


	3. Dinner and Devising  (Guardian Moon 1185)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first step on the road to Enbarr is taken

The next day work had begun for the day on strengthening Garreg Mach's defenses. Mages were using spells to shape and permanently bind stone into place, while the more physically capable soldiers hauled the heavy rubble up the stairs. Felix bumped into Sylvain high on the fortification, the boulder on the swordsman's shoulder wobbled.

"You don't just stop in the middle of hauling Sylvain. Are you trying to get someone crushed?" 

Grunting, Felix set the rock down to see what had caused the interruption. The lancer was leaning over the battlement and beckoned Felix to join him. The swordsman felt a deep irritation, his friend’s commotion was only over the departing supply run. 

During breakfast, Felix had overheard Annette’s and Mercede’s conversation on how their initial trio had turned into a quartet with the addition of Ingrid. Seteth had overheard that conversation and accosted the professor as soon as she had stepped into the dining hall for not taking the proper security measures with her outside of the monastery.

Felix looked down as the Knights of Seiros rode through the portcullis. The swordsman turned away to get back to work, but his surcoat was tugged back to Sylvain’s side. Just underneath now was the trio of lioness lead by the professor, whom Felix caught himself staring at. An undyed wool cloak concealed her usual attire, but couldn't hide the forward slump in her posture. He thought of the her pale back marred by the bruises and felt his stomach tighten. He just hoped that whatever ill she was feeling wasn't the cause of the Boar again. 

In the corner of Felix’s eye, he saw Sylvain look at him then back at the professor. He gave a sly smile and cupped his hands to his mouth. 

Sylvain shouted downwards. “Professor! Up here!” 

Though his teeth, Felix hissed. “**What** do you think you’re doing Sylvain?”

The redhead gave an exaggerated wave while nudging Felix with his elbow. “You don’t want to say goodbye to our darling professor?” 

What his friend was trying to achieve by getting the former mercenary’s attention, Felix still had no idea. Whatever it was though couldn’t be a positive thing.

By the time Felix looked down, the professor's head was already turning back towards the road, but he caught the edge of a smile on her lips. He took a deep breath. Today would be another long workday, and he didn’t need any distractions. As soon as the sun burnt off the frost, the traps within the Sealed Forest needed to be checked. Not that anything would be caught during the winter. Besides, that smile couldn't have been meant for him. Sylvain was the one who drew the professor's attention after all. It was his older friend who charmed the opposite sex and coaxed those smiles from them even during this disaster of a war.

* * *

Receiving no income for five years had put Byleth in a perilous position; being forced to rely upon her former students for assistance. The former mercenary had witnessed the negotiation of enough contracts in the past that Annette’s and Mercedes’s offer seemed reasonable. In exchange for funds to restore the wardrobe Byleth had lost five years ago, she would _finally _humor them by trying on gowns. Their negotiation terms had seemingly changed though the moment Mercedes pulled out a small round tube presumingly of lipstick.

Byleth closed her eyes as yet another gown was held up to her body in front of the mirror. None of this was _her. _Until she became a professor the only colors which had painted her face had been red splatters of blood, various shades of brown from mud and dirt, the occasional grey and black for night combat, and once in Brigid a deep green war paint.

Only for the Winter Ball had Byleth allowed the lionesses to mold her into their vision of _beauty_.

Despite the compliments doled out from her dance partners that night the results had been awkward. She was their professor yet certain males had acted like her suitors instead of her students. At least Claude had only teased her as normal when they shared a dance, but others such as Dimitri looked at her like she was royalty. Even Felix...strong, caring, bluntly honest Felix treated her differently that night. He refused to look at her or to talk with her during their dance which he had gotten pushed into. 

Excusing herself, Byelth claimed to have overheated from the gowns to get outside. She had intended to only temporarily steel herself and head back to fulfill her end of the deal. However, the drag of bone against a surface alerted her to a relic. Byleth loosed the Sword of the Creator on what she assumed was an imperial crest user. Quickly Byleth retracted her relic when she noticed Hilda's familiar pink hair, the scraping noise had been Freikugel. 

Keeping her voice neutral Byleth spoke and advanced with the relic extended. "Easy does it Goneril. I don't know where anyone's allegiance lies and you just serendipitously came across my path."

"Hey ya, Professor!" Hilda nearly sang, as if a blade was not against her throat. "I should probably say hello from Claude too since he's why I'm here. He becomes Duke and he still makes me do all the work. Can you believe that?"

_Steady now don't let up your guard just because he's a friend._ "Delegation is a great thing when you're in charge. Now, what does Claude want with me?"

The 'twin-tailed tank' produced a letter with a yellow seal, slowly placed it on the ground then stepped backward.

* * *

A horn signaled the supply run’s return shortly after the dining hall had opened for dinner. Felix joined what felt like the rest of the army to see how successful their day had gone. Compared to this morning the professor seemed in much higher spirits, Felix noted. She buzzed with energy, as much as she ever did at least. The former mercenary practically leaped off her saddle, and with a jog weaved through the soldiers who came to unload packs of supplies. It was only when the professor nearly knocked Felix that she acknowledged him.

“Fraldarius.” There was something different in her eyes...something Felix couldn’t place. “Our dinner plans.” The professor took a deep breath. “Would you mind if we move them to the old classroom? You'll never guess what haul I found at the hamlet."

* * *

With two bowls of barely seasoned stew in hand, Felix entered the old Blue Lions classroom. He was surprised how aside from the faded banners on the wall nothing seemed to have changed since the final lesson, right before the treachery in the tomb. Five years later, he could not recall what the final lesson was. Only that Professor Eisner had been on his case regarding the final tactics project mandatory for his graduation. 

“Fraldarius,” _ Even the image of her hunched over parchment hasn’t changed. _ “Thank you for grabbing supper. I’m sorry for knocking into you earlier. I don’t know what came over me.” _ Though something is missing. _“Please, sit wherever you’d like.” 

Initially, Felix sat on the edge of the wooden desk but launched himself off when he realized not what, but who was missing from his hazy memory. Often at this hour before a mission, or on his assigned tutoring days, the younger Boar could be found sitting on this very spot. Felix rolled his eyes and nearly stormed out of the classroom.

_ What am I doing? I am not just the Boar’s replacement. _

Granted, the professor tutored all the Lions where she had expertise. Granted, it was her expertise with the blade that led to his one on one sparring sessions with her well past curfew. Granted, the Boar was being tutored on the macro side of tactics that were not being covered at the academy. However, there wasn’t a single Lion who believed his betterment was the sole reason he sought the professor out. Not when the Boar jumped out of his skin whenever another student entered the classroom when the two of them were alone.

_ Tutoring...you weren't fooling any of us Boar. _

The professor rose from her chair. Her head was cocked in confusion. “Hey, did I do something wrong?” 

The dark bruises flashed into the front of Felix's mind. No, just like everyone else the Boar had ever pulled into his life only to hurt them, the former mercenary had done nothing wrong. The swordsman sighed and took his old seat at the front left of the classroom. The professor tucked the parchment away in her desk and drug her chair in front of the long desk. One bite of the stew and her eyes lit up. 

“Mmmmm. When did the kitchen get ahold of winter mushrooms? What are these, brick caps?”

Felix shrugged to brush off her question, but on the inside, he felt smug. The truth was that while checking on the predictably empty traps, he foraged enough for their supper, but that was a secret she never needed to know. When he took a bite of his meal, he could appreciate his professor's reaction. After a long period of tasteless meals, both here at the monastery and while he was on the front lines, even a simple earthy flavor stood out on his tongue.

When the professor shifted in her chair with a slight wince, Felix had to ask. “How was the Boar last night? He didn't touch you again did he?”

She bit the side of her lip and looked to Felix’s right; the seat the Boar occupied during lectures. “No Dimitri didn’t do anything physical last night, which I suppose is progress from when he believed I was a spy. His moments of clarity though are almost as terrifying as his madness. He’s dangerously hellbent on killing Edelgard.”

_If only you listened to me from the beginning._

Felix clenched his fists and bit back. “Why do you insist on helping him after what he did to you? He surrendered whatever little humanity he had left to get better at killing people.” 

For as much venom as Felix had in his tone, the professor's tone remained calm. “Gilbert wasn’t entirely wrong when he said we needed to make Dimitri’s health a priority. He was just wrong thinking that it trumped supplies and troops...in my opinion of course. Dimitri is a friend but he's also our legitimate heir. If he comes to his senses before we topple Edelgard, minor lords will yield to his family name. Without him...we’d be in for a long conflict even if we razed Enbarr tomorrow."

The professor's mouth lifted into a smirk and the competitive spark returned to her eyes. "As it stands I've found our first small step towards razing Enbarr."

Felix’s brain stopped for a moment. It was the first time he had ever seen her competitive outside of combat. Usually, Felix was too busy trying to survive a battle, or in sparring attempting to wipe that competitive look off her face to appreciate it. Now getting a solid look at it, Felix decided this was his favorite of her looks.

_ Wait, did she just say a step towards Enbarr? _

“Wait, did you just say a step towards Enbarr? You mean your haul from the hamlet?” 

She slowly nodded.

“The supplies we bought were small-time compared to the information I received. Some Imperial supplies for the winter will pass through soon on their way north to Faerghus. It won’t be a real battle or a major blow. We don’t have enough support for that yet. But if we can start raiding the route we can cause The Empire a headache, get what we need to survive, and relieve pressure on Kingdom troops.”

“Is your source reliable?”

“That is debatable, but at this point, we don't have any other intelligence to move on. So Fraldarius, I could use another set of eyes while I plan this. Could I tempt you into straying after dinner to help plan the first strike against the Empire?”

* * *

Much to Felix’s surprise, the mysterious intelligence was not a trap. Much as the professor had predicted the real struggle was the approval of the ambush itself. In the Cardinal Room Gilbert for once had been on the professor’s side, agreeing with her opinion that the army’s current probability of victory from a direct assault was low. How this was a chance to increase their preparations. The Boar, as everyone was getting used to, was only concerned with his death march to Enbarr. He acted if everything else was just a waste of time and resources. Seteth, while aboard with the idea demanded the confidant be revealed before the church devoted resources to a trap. Felix found himself agreeing with the sentiment. The professor trusted the mysterious source far too much for his comfort. Until Seteth had finished speaking his mind she had sat silently with her arms crossed. When she finally spoke it was without a measure of emotion in her voice, insisting the Knights of Seiros would only get in the way of her plan. 

The professor had plotted this raid to come across as a simple bandit attack. So when the raiding party exited the gates of the monastery no armored knights nor lancers joined as assistance. The party was comprised of himself, Ashe and his archers, the professor, and what was left of the Blade Breaker's mercenary company. The mercenaries kept a relentless pace as they tracked the caravan and after a handful of days the imperial scouts who searched for threats such as their raiding party were dispatched of. The time to act without the caravan on high alert was limited, but the mercenaries were veterans and successfully found their prey. A small reprieve was only allowed to wait for the cover of darkness as the raiding party prepared themselves for the ambush. Felix packed away his surcoat and white doublet, which would only reflect light in the night. Rations were divvied and the resulting ash from the small cooking fire was mixed with mud for camouflage to be applied to their faces and necks.

Under the moonless sky, there was no command to attack or battle cry. The raiding party silently crept along applying their hands over Imperial mouths and their silent daggers across Imperial throats. Felix was attentive towards how much pressure he applied to his footing to not give away their ambush. A flickering campfire was within Felix's sight when a twig finally snapped giving their position away. Immediately to his left Felix heard the familiar snap of bone as the Imperial campsite was flooded with a sinister red glow. As a student, Felix had seen the Ashen Demon up close plenty of times. In true combat, the former mercenary's eyes narrowed but otherwise, remained indifferent no matter the screams on the battlefield or the blood which splattered her face. In the dark, the red glow and the camouflage only enhanced her moniker. She truly appeared as a demon from some enemy's nightmare but all he could feel next to the demon as they advanced with their swords drawn was confidence.

Together in silence, the raiding party cut through those who dared to stand their ground while the archers picked off those who attempted to run. 

The stench of iron still filled Felix’s nose as the morning sun peeked over the horizon. The swordman swore the sky was the same blood red as the ground he stood on. He withdrew his blade from a previously wounded, now dead imperial soldier and scanned the ambush site for further movement. On the Ashen Demon's order, those unlucky enough to be escorting the supplies were not given quarter. Around him, the carts were being given final checks to ensure the supplies were secure before departing.

“We need these carts moving now.” From the trees, the Ashen Demon's order bellowed. “And watch the tracks. If we leave tracks we’re being followed.”

Emerging from the treeline the former mercenary still wore the mixture of ash and mud. Ashe walked a step behind her, his now clean face looked concerned. "Professor, we slaughtered even those who surrendered. I know this was supposed to look like a bandit attack, but there had to have been a better way." 

Her answer was monotone. It was as if she was giving a lecture in a classroom instead of discussing ethics with corpses nearby. "If the Imperials left on their own will, word of out little rebel force would reach Hubert. There would be bounties on our heads and an army at our gate." The Ashen Demon placed her relic onto the floorboard of a supply cart before hoisting herself into the driver's seat. "Would you have used the resources we captured...the resources we need for ourselves to provide for prisoners?"

"I am just trying to do the right thing."

"And in war, the correct action isn't necessarily morally right. Disagree with my decision if it will make you feel better, but I stand by it. If I've made myself clear get into a cart, we need to get these supplies moving." After a beat, her eyes met Felix's own. "Fraldarius, are you going to keep staring in my direction or hop up?"

It didn't occur to Felix until she had pointed it out. Indeed, he had been staring at her. His stubbornness told him to spite his professor by riding alongside a different mercenary. Instead, when the wooden cart jolted forward along with the rest of the caravan, he found himself sharing that very bench. The professor carefully held both the reins and her relic in one hand as together they cleaned their respective blades in silence. Miles passed by before either of them spoke again, both too consumed with preventing the blood from eventually rusting their weapons. 

The now clean relic scraped against the wood on the floorboard as it was set down. "When you're done with your maintenance, clean your face and don't fight off sleep. I'll need you to take the reins from me this afternoon so I can do the same."

Felix nodded, the adrenaline from combat had worn off leaving his muscles sore and his body aware of how long he'd been awake while the mercenaries tracked. 

"Good work this morning. I was impressed with how silent your movement was maintained during the ambush." Her still painted face stared ahead at the road. 

With his sword cleaned, Felix moved on to cleaning his face. "You forgot I'm fond of hunting. I'm aware of how to use stealth when necessary. My old man taught me how to skin a deer before I learned a proper combat stance. Glenn and I used to go every fall to thin out herds to prevent them from destroying crops." 

Inwardly Felix sighed and braced himself to push the conversation away from Glenn. Bringing up his deceased older brother only resulted in questions about him and comparisons between the two of them. While Glenn lived, Felix had loved him as a brother and friend. Now everyone pushed him into emulating a dead man, it frustrated Felix to be doomed to live in that dead man's shadow.

"Venison is delicious, but I only hunted out of necessity when the mercenary band's coffers were empty. Tracking a deer and getting a clean hit isn't easy when you're stomach burns with hunger." The professor's short chuckle pulled Felix's attention towards her eyes which had softened.

The direction the professor had taken the conversation pleasantly surprised him. Then again she never had met Glenn so she had no reason to compare the two of them. She was one of the few people at the academy who saw Felix for himself. The swordsman propped his boots up and leaned back, attempting to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

"I don't envy your hunger but that sounds like a real challenge. In the north, unless the deer are in the rutting or the fawning season they aren't skittish. We'd often see deer grazing in a farmer's field without care that we existed. We still used charcoal to mask our scent but it made for less than competitive hunts. The only real tracking we did was when we missed our mark to put the deer out of its misery quickly."

"What did you two do with the meat that was culled?" She asked.

"Some of it was preserved for our storehouse and some given out to farmers whose land had been impacted. On occasion, we'd bring some home and my mother would stew it for hours with red wine and spices imported from Almyra." 

At that moment he could almost smell that strew even if it was only his memory of the aroma. That strew was cooked during a simpler time before the tragedy of Duscur struck his family. The days before he lost his old man to the Boar who became the brother he did not want. The days before his mother stopped smiling when she looked at Felix and saw only a younger Glenn. The days before he lost both a brother in Glenn whom he considered a friend and a friend in Dimitri whom he considered another brother. Somehow though the memory of that stew stung something in him, but stung pleasantly.

"Corn-fed deer from Fódlan have a milder taste compared to say Brigid where their deer feed on acorns. Their gamey taste is hard to mask. I'm glad you have fond memories of hunting. Papa...Jeralt...only went with me once, if you can even count that time in Brigid. The company had a contract with the nation during their invasion of the Adrestian Empire. We were traveling a river by boat and Jeralt sent a few of us tracking while he secured it. I came up empty-handed only to come across a stag right there on the shoreline near the boat. When I took the shot...the arrow missed the deer and no shit sliced clean through the rope securing our boat in place."

Felix felt his eyelids grow heavy. He tried fighting against his exhaustion as she continued her story.

"Papa nearly fell into the shallows laughing. The mercenaries gifted me a training bow and rope later that week." 

When Felix looked over at the professor the hints of a smile formed on the edge of her lips. Felix had to suppress the smile that threatened to escape his own. A comfortable silence overtook the two of them as the back of Felix's eyelids blocked his vision. In the space between awake and asleep a soothing melody hummed from beside Felix eased him towards his rest. 


	4. Defending Garreg Mach (Guardian Moon 1185)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain sets up his own ambush against Byleth. A combined effort from Felix and Byleth leads to the first major defeat of the Empire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guardian Moon was quickly turning into three chapters so I did a little editing. Yes, there are now fewer chapters but more story. On the bright side after this moon everything is back on track!
> 
> Warning: Implied underaged drinking by US standards

After the initial raid on the Imperial supply route, the meals while still heavily rationed contained flavor again, the chill of the night was held off with heavier blankets, and the infirmary was able to treat patients again without the need for magic alone. Felix could tell the Ppofessor's morale was in order when she began their shared ritual of sparring together deep into the night again. It felt...good...to see a half-smirk of victory from the professor when she pressed her blade against him while on the ground, and her half-scowl when the situation was reversed. In times of war, though moments happiness never lasted long. It was a fact that stung each time Felix was forced to relearn it.

With a sympathetic shrug, his blow was parried as the professor claimed the Boar had spoken to Glenn in front of her, and that was the good news of that night. Without her injury, Felix felt the professor's frustration with a full blow that pushed him off balance when she adamantly stated that no tracks were left when they raided the caravan. Yet somehow the Imperial Army had still found its way towards their gate. It was Felix's turn to continuously block her tense blows as she worked through her pressure. The first defense of Garreg Mach was difficult enough before it was sacked, now a defense had to be planned with even worse conditions. After that night the professor was again distant unless it was about how to prevent the same mistakes that happened five years ago.

This time the scouting reports had a clear estimate of the Empire's forces, but there was still a sense of unease around the monastery. When Felix heard a knock on his old dorm room's door, he half expected it to be a call to arms. Instead, a red-haired paladin met his gaze armed with a crate of dark bottles instead of his Lance of Ruin. 

Felix was appalled at his friend. "Let me guess, you have a pair of girls waiting in your room and want me to come and keep one company. The Empire could be here any day and you're chasing skirts."

Adjusting his grip on the crate Sylvain smirked and tugged him towards the hallway. "It's not some girls...it's one certain female currently in our old classroom, not my dorm. Otherwise...yes. "

Of course, Sylvain was trying to woo the professor and just like always Felix would be dragged along. This time though he felt a boulder drop into the pit of his stomach at the thought of who Sylvain was trying to charm.

Digging his heels along the wooden floor to stop his movement, Felix snapped at Sylvain. "You're an idiot. I will **never** help you lure our professor into your bed."

Sylvain laughed "Aha, you have the wrong idea. There isn't anything between us. Listen, when I found out the professor had a crest I said something...nasty. Go figure when I went to drink my anger away there she was at the same tavern and still willing to listen to me. The two of us met up every so often to destress. Hell if it was only His Highness that had eyes for our professor I might have tried to make a pass at some point but never mind." Sylvain began to walk down the hall towards the stairs. "Come on, you could use a break just as much as her."

The twin fireplaces of the former Blue Lion's classroom roared bathing the room in heat of its red-orange glow. On top of the old desks, papers were haphazardly held down with empty inkwells and even the Sword of the Creator. 

Placing the crate on the professor’s messy desk Sylvain asked. “Is planning this defense easier or harder the second time?”

The sleeves of the professor's black blouse were rolled up above her elbows showing the smeared ink on her hands and wrists. The professor's work ethic no...her stubbornness which led to her ethic was both admirable and infuriating. Felix admired her stubbornness when she pushed the two of them to be stronger. However, Felix greatly hated when that stubbornness when led to her current state; absorbed in work and ignoring people. No ignoring...him...again. _Shit, why does this bother me so much?_

"A tactician's plan is only as valuable as the intelligence they based it on. Of course, the intel you work with is never the intel you want. Doubly with the scouts from the church. Sorry I'm lecturing again, aren't I? What can I do for you—" When she finally looked up the professor's eyes met his. "—two?"

Quickly Felix looked away, this time at the crate in Sylvain's arms. In his usual biting tone, Felix lashed out. "Professor, you're working yourself too hard again. Stop whatever bullshit you're convinced is more important than—" He caught himself almost finishing the sentence with _me _and swallowed hard "—rest. You're useless if you sleep another five years from exhaustion."

She motioned around the room with her hand. “These battle plans aren’t going to draw themselves. I’d appreciate more sets of eyes for different perspectives. And don’t try to weasel your way out of this Gautier. Your secret competence is safe with me away from your father.” The professor uncorked a bottle from the crate and sniffed the contents. "Did you pilfer this off the supply caravan. Never mind, just tell me if we have glasses." 

Sylvain replied and grabbed two more bottles handing one to Felix. “I didn’t want to risk being caught by Seteth so no glasses. Which is also the reason why I shouldn’t be the one to review your plans. Seteth and Gilbert both have it out for me, they will dismiss anything with my name attached."

A harsh aroma greeted Felix when he uncorked his bottle and sniffed. "Sylvain and I are not tacticians. Fuck Professor, were you even going to let me pass your tactics class? Besides this was about forcing you to relax not allowing you to work.”

With a loud _clack_, the professor placed her feet, ankles crossed onto her desk. Raising her bottle in the air she sarcastically began.“Fine. Here’s a health to tonight’s benefactor; the Empire. May the commander on their way here be as incompetent as whoever leaked the caravan intelligence.” She took a swig, her voice full of irritation. “See Fraldarius, I'm relaxing." She took another swig. "And I trust you just as much so look at the damn plans. Your pre-combat tactics were good...sometimes great. What held your grade back was your on-field application. Your unwillingness to work with battalions has always been your downfall." 

Felix had always trusted his professor on the battlefield, and he suspected she felt the same considering how easily they fought alongside one another. Her trust in him out of combat, however, was a new and welcome revelation to him. With a sigh, Felix took a mouthful from the bottle and regretted his action immediately. The hot, woody spirit burned the back of his throat and filled his nose. "Whatever we're drinking is foul. Don't you two have standards?"

Both Sylvain and the professor gave a loud laugh but she was the one who spoke. "I have standards they're simply low." In a reassuring tone, she continued. "If you can't tolerate the taste don't push yourself to drink it."

With a whisper, Sylvain teased. "See Felix, with her taste you have a shot with the professor after all." 

Retribution against Sylvain's comment came swiftly with a stamp of Felix's foot against his friend's unarmoured one. The two men sat among the old desks and began to pour over the professor's work. Over time, the more Felix drank, the fuzzier the ink on the documents and the discussion between Sylvain and the professor became. 

Sylvain's voice was softer, devoid of the usual flirting tone. "Is our defensive failure of the academy your biggest regret? You seem wound tighter than you normally are when strategizing." 

"It's not my biggest regret but losing this battle guarantees our death. My biggest regret though." For a long moment, there was silence as the professor stood up out of her chair and went to the door staring out onto the quad. "If I could do it all again and guarantee everyone's safety. I would let Edelgard fall to the bandit's axe. Even if that action meant never being your professor or meeting any of you." 

An unfamiliar tightness ripped through Felix's ribcage. His voice boomed from the booze as he spoke. "How can you say that...you idiot. Without you...without you, no one would be who they are today. Including me. You changed us in the most frustrating...obnoxious...good...way. Fuck your regret. I wouldn't want to live in your version of the academy." 

A heavy silence hung in the air. The professor continued to stare outside the classroom, her head leaning up against the doorframe. “I would ask what your biggest regret is but I doubt the lone wolf of Fraldarius would tell me.”

“I...I don’t...can’t have regrets. Look at the Boar and how his regrets have consumed him to the point of madness. I will never allow myself to fall like that.” 

The heavy silence returned to the room. If Felix was being honest, the professor's question had never before crossed his thoughts. He had made peace with Glenn's death so he had no regrets. Regret over the professor's death could have lingered if she hadn't come back, but she was alive...there was the professor again, worming her way into his inner thoughts. As Felix shook his head to displace her from his thoughts his vision swam with dizziness. He felt unsteady as he pushed himself away from the desk. A strong pair of arms caught him as he stumbled towards the ground. 

With a laugh that shook Felix, their professor was addressed by Sylvain. "Felix here seems dead to the world so we should call it a night. I'll carry him to his room if you grab the whiskey."

Closer the sound of glass bottles clinking together drew as Felix felt himself be hoisted over the paladin's shoulders like an oxen's yoke. With every step taken Felix's world destabilized further so the swordsman closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. A sound of surprise came from his professor followed by the _thwack_ of paper against her skin.

"This! This is why I want different perspectives when drafting battleplans! Did you read Fraldarius' defensive proposal?" Felix felt the red-head shake his head. "It calls for the use of fire as a defensive barrier. In my plan, I treated the area around Garreg Mach as a town with civilians. I've been trying to mitigate damage to structures for an easier rebuilding effort."

Sylvain began walking again and when Felix took his next breath the air was fresh but cold. "A defensive barrier that will also trap enemies who get caught in the barrier. I'm not sure if this is more or less maniacal than his suggestion of clear-cutting a forest for a marching route. So how are we launching this trap?"

The professor's voice was right next to his ear now. "His suggestion is to use mages but the spell would cause too much strain on the casters to last long enough. We'll use tar to control the fire's spread so it won't spread into our position." Under her breath, she mumbled for a short amount of time. "Calvary will be used to spring the trap and then flank the fire sealing off the Imperial escape route. Congratulations Gautier I need you to command them. Your name is attached to this plan whether you desire it or not."

Felix intimately knew the route from the Blue Lions classroom to the training ground which assisted him in tracking his location. He allowed himself to zone out as Sylvain and their professor idly chattered away.

The sudden stop jostled Felix bringing his awareness back to their hazy conversation. The professor spoke “Our rebel force doesn't need one of its two best blades hungover. I'm going to get comfortable, grab the waterskin from my desk, and then be upstairs to check on you two shortly. If you mess with our defenseless drunk...I still remember how much you enjoyed practicing reason spells."

_Defenseless? Me? Never. You know better. I have a few victories no matter how narrow over you Professor._

Sylvain teased. "Feeling protective over the second-best blade at the monastery Professor? What other feeling do you have about Felix?"

Felix heard the sliding of wood which he knew had to have been the professor's door. "I never said second-best blade, as a swordsman he's my equal."

"And your feelings about your equal? Come on, you can tell me. Felix is out cold. Come on, you used to confide in Claude and me all the time. You gave Felix a pound of trust tonight, can't you give me just an ounce?"

"My feelings about...how drunk do you think I am?" With an agitated tone, the professor began. "I mean he's unwilling to work with anyone who he deems weaker than him. He's pricklier than the fruit in Morfis, and his blunt honesty doesn't win him allies."

Sylvain adjusted Felix's weight across his shoulders jostling Felix again. If the red-head kept this up Felix was certain he would be sick and not just from the movement. The professor must have thought him a bratty sparring partner to sharpen her skills against...nothing more. Then again sparring was all he wanted out of her. To surpass his professor and have her acknowledge it. He couldn't explain to himself the feeling of dread and nausea that overcame his body. As if he was losing his professor just like that first defense of Garreg Mach.

Her voice softened as she continued. "But he's also more than just physically strong, and though he has an unorthodox way of showing it...he cares deeply for those he has loyalty towards. Hells, his brutal honesty is what makes me trust his opinions. I would take his word over anyone else's." She let out a short laugh. "Heh, luckily for us he's a lightweight or he'd be challenging me to spar in indignation. You should get him to bed."

The door slid shut and Sylvain began walking again towards their old dormitory. The lancer only spoke again once Felix had been deposited into the bed in his old dorm room. 

"You should be glad the professor's perception goes to shit when she drinks. She would never open up if she knew you were listening. You both bottle your emotions up too much for your own good. Anyway, whatever you do with this new knowledge is up to you, but I hope for your sake you act on it at some point."

* * *

Standing resolute on a rampart the Ashen Demon watched as the once consuming inferno died down to mere embers. A scarf was securely wrapped around her mouth and nose to prevent smoke inhalation and to block the sulfuric stench of burning flesh and hair below. However, the measure of safety which was imposed on all soldiers this battle prevented verbal communication. That was the very reason the Ashen Demon had spent the battle upon a rampart making necessary adjustments to battlelines instead of below on the killing floor. It was fortunate that with Jeralt's old mercenary company hand signals were used to convey necessary orders, while a popped flare serviced as Gautier's signal to spring the trap.

Twisting her clenched fist in the air, the order was given to begin the battlefield cleanup. Away the demon walked from the black dispersing smoke, the swordsman who had hatched the wildly successful trap step in step beside her. Fraldarius...that scruffy student who in the past wanted nothing more than to swing his blade at something, did not take his usual place on the front lines. The swordsman had insisted on staying on the ramparts beside her, his thumb tracing circles around the pommel of the blade he gripped.

Slowly the Ashen Demon unstrapped the buckles that secured her gauntlets and attached them to her relic belt. The swordsman pushed his scarf down and with a hint of mirth in his voice broke their battle-long silence. "I never knew a battle could be so dull. Victory is what matters I suppose, not how we accomplish it." 

Legend stated that remorse, mercy, kindness, or any other emotion was supposedly lost on the famed Ashen Demon. That while long ago was the truth, now was a blatant lie. The present-day Ashen Demon was nothing more than a mantle to intimidate the demon's opponents, and a mask to slip on so the next objected could be completed.

Amber eyes full of a protective fire met the former mercenary's gaze momentarily before darting down to the ground. While under her scarf, Byelth felt the edges of her lips curl upwards. Yes, the present-day Ashen Demon was an emotionless mask and one thing in Fódlan seemed to rip it away at will...namely Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

"What is our next move, Professor?" Felix's cheeks were dusted pink when he spoke.

Byleth took a deep breath. Slipping back into the Ashen Demon, she forced her smile down. Until the scouts could confirm the elimination of Imperial forces, this was still an active battle. In the former mercenary's experience; the longer everything went to plan, the more severe the disaster was when it eventually failed.

With her stony exterior back in place, she lowered her scarf and spoke. "We'll send out feelers to potential allies along with the report that the Adrestian Empire lost a regiment to our inferiorly equipped force. With just a little more assistance we can start a campaign and make Count Bergliez's seat uncomfortably warm."

As they descended the rampart the Ashen Demon heard a commotion from just inside the fortifications. In the air, what was left of Dimitri held the throat of a man with reddish-brown armor and sand-blonde hair. The former mercenary picked up her pace, Fraldarius only a step behind until they were within earshot of the former prince's low, spiteful voice.

"You are a monster too, general. You have just yet to realize it. A monster who thinks he's a man...despicable" Dimitri threw the Imperial prisoner onto the ground. "As a general, you must have killed countless souls without a shred of mercy. Do you still remember the sound of them begging, just as you're begging now? Or, now that your life is at its end, will you hold to the lie that your hands are not stained red with blood?"

During her year of teaching, Felix Fraldarius had constantly insisted that Dimitri wore the mask of 'prince charming' to hide his true nature of a 'boar'. Remire village was the first time the then shocked professor bore witness to the mask's cracks. The former prince's behavior no longer surprised the former mercenary, this was Dimitri's new normal. 

Now on his hands and knees, the prisoner’s voice was strained with agony from the impact as he sputtered. "This...this is war. I did what I had to for the Empire...for my family!"

The chuckle that left Dimitri's lips sent a shiver of dread down her spine. "So you are piling up corpses for the people and your family. And I am doing the same for the salvation of the dead. After all is said and done, we are both murderers. Both stained. Both monsters."

With a laborious breath, the prisoner insisted. "You're wrong."

Bending over to the prisoner's ear Dimitri nearly whispered. "Am I?" 

That question hung in the air for a few moments. If not for the reference to Dimitri's madness the former mercenary would have agreed with the former prince. No matter one's reason...be it money, protection of family or friends, allegiance, or survival...battle made murderous monsters of everyone involved. It was more a question of what kind of monster one was made into.

"I can smell the rotting flesh upon your hands even now, General."

It dawned on her at the worst time that this exchange was becoming the eventual disaster in the plan Fraldarius and herself had carefully laid out. If anyone else would have reached this general first he could have been properly questioned for intelligence. Soon she would have to intervene one way or another. The former mercenary looked over at the swordsman. His hand firmly gripped his sword while his eyes darted between the former prince and herself.

"Enough! That's enough!" The prisoner howled hoarsely as his tears began to fall onto the dirt below.

"I won't kill you right away, my fellow monster."

At that moment the former mercenary saw the direction Dimitri was taking the conversation. Torture for information was already a seedy business that she avoided. Torture for sheer pleasure, however, was unacceptable. The Ashen Demon ran through the options in her head quickly. When retracted, the narrow Sword of the Creator was suited for thrusting instead of the cutting motion she required. However, even if she extended the sword into its whip-like function the former mercenary doubted she could get a clean cut.

Out of the corner of her eye, the former mercenary looked at the swordsman and stated. "I need one of your swords Fraldarius. The broader the better." 

There was no doubt in Byleth’s mind that she silver sword she gripped in her hand was sharp enough, considering the swordsman's obsession with the maintenance of his blades. The Crest of Flames manifested itself on the back of the Ashen Demon's sword-hand when she activated it. The tattoo-like crest, which when activated was normally hidden by her gantlets, gleamed yellow as she strode towards the former prince. A proper headsman could have given this unknown general some final words. However, a swift death needed to be given before the former prince dipped further into his madness.

"Unless you object to watching your friends die. One...by...one. If so, I will do you the service of removing your eyes first so that—"

The former mercenary didn't dare to look at the result of her action, but the glare from Dimitri told her a second chop was unnecessary. With a sound of confusion, he asked. "What is the meaning of this?" 

Clenching her jaw to maintain her composure she slowly spoke through her gritted teeth. "I won't watch you...let you torture our enemies just to satiate yourself."

The former prince laughed maniacally "A grievous error, Professor! If you do not approve of what I have become, then kill me. If you insist that you cannot...then I will continue to use you and your friends until the flesh falls from your bones."

Byleth thought the former prince could no longer do anything to shock her...yet somehow she had been wrong. She barely noticed that Felix had wordlessly stepped in-between the former prince and herself. As she walked away with Felix's silver sword still in hand, doubt filled her mind.

* * *

Even when Byleth was a professor, when not in the chaos of battle, life at the monastery was measured by the bells of Garreg Mach. The monastery awoke to the toll of the bells which called its residents to work and to prayer. It was the softer bells of Garreg Mach which signaled its residents’ meals, while just hours ago the thunderous bells signaled a call to arms. 

The sun sank over the horizon as the bells of Garreg Mach signaled the monks' evening prayers. Slowly Byleth walked down a large flight of stairs concealing a bottle of whiskey and one glass under her worn traveling cloak. Upon the spot where her parents lay (even if she knew only her mother's name, she was still a parent), Byleth filled the glass and placed it on top of the headstone. Once behind the gravesite she leaned against the headstone and looked up at the darkening sky.

"Hey papa," Frowning, Byleth paused as the words caught in her throat. "I don't think I ever actually came here after...well it's been over five years for you now. Why I’m even talking like you can hear me.” She took another long pause and watched her breath billow in the cold winter air. “Even when you trusted me with tactics, you always handled the negotiations. Did you think I would accept contracts you would refuse? Father, if you were alive and Gilbert offered you a contract here...would you have taken it? Would you fight for whatever Dimitri has become? Or would you have taken one look at the prince and pledged your skill to a different side? Could I have prevented this somehow?” 

Inwardly Byleth cursed when she heard a pair of footsteps bounding down the stairs behind her. With her relic and armor in her room, she gripped her dagger and prepared to attack her uninvited company. 

Instead, Felix’s firm voice called out for her. “Professor?! Professor?!” When she peered at him he was still dressed in his armor, and his eyes were wide. He mumbled under his breath. “Don’t let her be in that sty.”

Byleth stood up and whether or not Felix realized it he exhaled. "I was visiting my father's grave. If you're searching for me you must need something."

"I—you still have my sword...you weren't in your room, the cardinal room, or the training grounds when I went there looking for you. After what the Boar said...I..."

She stepped closer to the swordsman, his amber eyes looked past her. In a more annoyed tone than she had intended she bit at him. "**I** can fend for myself. You try to protect everyone here, yet are you bothering to take care of yourself? Trust me I'm the one you don't need to worry about."

Baring his teeth Felix bit back. "You **can** fend for yourself but you haven't been. I know you don't fear him but. Shit." He took a deep breath as his eyes softened. "I've lost two people to that monster, and I can't...I mean...I won't let you be the third."

Something in the way Felix's eyes softened made Byleth want to hold him tight in comfort. How a man who sparred with her near-daily could be so worried about her abilities was beyond her understanding. Byleth softened her tone and resisted reaching out towards the swordsman. "Your sword is still in my room. If you want your sword now...you can escort me back to my room and grab it." 

In the cold winter's night, the pair walked in step beside one another. Even though there was not another soul in sight, the swordman's face grew more red with every step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So longer but fewer chapters or shorter but more chapters? What works best to read?
> 
> My honest hope with this series is to make Byleth live up to being the Ashen Demon in battle and a good tactician out of it. That's definitely a trait I feel like so many Byleth fics miss. So let me know if I'm doing my vision justice or am missing the mark.


	5. The Final Days at Garreg Mach (Pegasus Moon 1185)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain's ambush comes to fruition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found my ability lacking to write the entire first dancing sequence. Even after I painstakingly tried to find a reference on Youtube to match the sequence in my mind. So if you just need to know what anachronism I was basing that first dance from; [Virgnia Reel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnLEnf-6S_U). 
> 
> In case I don't get around to another chapter in the next five days. I wish you all a safe and Merry Christmas!

Before the war council in the cardinal's room began, the professor had insisted (more demanded) that Felix sat in the chair to her right.

“Don’t glare at me Fraldarius." She had said and exchanged with him a glare of her own. “You don’t like speaking up when we’re discussing tactics. How many ideas have you held back on me? There’s no excuse for that now...if you see something I don’t pass me a note.” 

Felix attempted to refuse his professor's demand, however, her stubbornness won out over his embarrassment. The first series of notes were passed when Felix’s father was brought up._ ‘I can’t stand that old man.’ _ Normally during the war council, the professor maintained a stony expression, but when she passed the piece of parchment back, she looked at him with her eyebrow slightly raised. _ ‘You really hate him. WIll working with him be a problem?’ _ Felix couldn’t decide whether this was a question of his ability to set aside his emotions or her genuine concern for him. _ ‘Yes, I do. It won’t be a problem. I hate the crazed nonsense that comes out of his mouth.’_

As the war council dispersed Felix stared up at the vaulted ceiling of the cardinal’s room. The last order of the meeting’s business found ‘Gilbert’ (the name Annette’s bastard of a father falsely went by now) conferring with the Boar over which city the army’s focus should turn to once reinforcements from his old man were gathered. Of course, the Boar was still obsessed with Enbarr and Edelgard's disembodied head. The note Felix passed elicited a huff of air through her nose. '_Gustave listens to that Boar more than Anne. Why do shitty fathers survive while the good ones fall?' _

His professor's expression and voice were steady as she made her point for the second time that day. “Gilbert, we can't entertain Dimitri's opinion. Taking the Imperial capital will require a siege that could take months. During that time any number of Imperial reinforcements could easily pin us.”

Gustave sat on the far side of the room "If we do not consider His Highness' opinions we will only be isolating him further. Of course, there is no rush for us to decide on a course of action at this time. When we meet Rodrigue I am certain he will have his own opinion on the next step."

The deadbeat said his farewells and departed the room leaving the professor and the swordsman alone. Felix shifted his gaze to his left and felt relief when their eyes didn't meet. Instead, her emerald eyes stared beyond the doorway of the cardinal's room. Her lips were tightly pursed into a line. As the nearly audible gears in his professor's head turned (probably) mulling over the war council...Felix mulled over the events of the night before. 

Panic was an emotion unbefitting of the Fraldarius bloodline, so Felix had been taught by his parents as a child. He and Glenn had been raised to trust that their instinct and abilities would come to their aid in times of need if they refused to give in to that emotion. However, the moment his professor was nowhere to be found, and without anyone who had seen her since the battle's end, all those the years of conditioning failed Felix in a heartbeat. The thought of his professor being harmed by the Boar formed a now-familiar tightness in his chest which only loosened when her mint hair glowed against the nearly set sun. Felix had nearly given in to what his instinct had outrageously demanded; to kiss her in relief. It was only her wrinkled nose and downward curve of her lips that had given Felix pause enough to take control back from his instincts. 

"Fraldarius, were you listening?" Standing beside his chair his professor chuckled with an upward curve of her lips. "It is nearly time for supper. Care to join me tonight? or did you make other plans?"

Again it was his professor's lips, her smile, that spurred his instinct to act against what was rational. She extended her hand outwards towards Felix in assistance. The images that raced through his mind irritated Felix. He saw Sylvain in his position who grabbed the professor's hand and pulled her down into a kiss. Sylvain was then replaced with Glenn who took her hand and kissed it gently. As his jaw clenched, Felix tried to prevent the scowl he felt forming...even his damn brain had compared him to others just now. 

"Professor." The stern voice belonged to a face Felix had never been so gleeful to see; Seteth. "A moment. You requested that we attempt to identify the enemy commander who was...defeated. Our scouts successfully discovered the campsite from which the Imperial attack was launched. Correspondence found in the command tent with Count Bergliez suggests the enemy was a General Randolph von Bergliez."

The Professor's unapologetic tone seemed to startle the green-haired man. "So I beheaded Caspar's older brother." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Great. With Caspar's sense of justice, we'll never flip him now. Can that incident get worse?"

With a disapproving glare, Seteth interjected. "Not that you seek consolation for your actions but according to the church's records, Randolph is the uncle of the former student in question...not his brother." An illuminated manuscript slid across the pine table with the Bergliez lineage. "Now, the church seeks guidance from its archbishop." The professor protested against the use of the title. "Even if temporary you are Rhea's successor. You have a responsibility to guide Fódlan." The wyvern lord crossed his arms. "How should the Church of Seiros treat the remains of its enemies? Many knights feel those we fight against are heretics undeserving of the goddess's mercy and final rites."

Quickly Felix passed a note to his professor._ 'The Empire has to respect a prisoner exchange. Would be more of a ransom with corpses. If word got out Hub or Ede fucked with etiquette Imperial noble and commoner alike would revolt. No one wants to lose family permanently for a small advantage.' _A genuine smile crossed her face when she read the page and mouthed 'thank you'.

Seteth seemed none the wiser and continued. "I expect you can reach an answer before the evening prayer Professor. As archbishop, even temporarily, you should consider leading the prayers at some point. It is not only the bodies of your soldiers, your faithful, that need ministrations."

The soft chime from bells of Garreg Mach signaled the dining hall had opened.

"I'm no moral compass Seteth," The professor pushed the piece of paper towards the green-haired man. "But you can consider Fraldarius' thoughts on the matter my own."

As Seteth took his leave the professor visibly relaxed. With a smirk, she teased him. "I like how you can decide the morality of this war before you can decide whether or not to join me for dinner." With one hand on the grip of her sword, she tussled her hair and began to leave the room. "My offer is still open..." 

Against anyone else his instinct would be a rude comment or a sneering 'shut up'. But against his professor, Felix once again forced down what his instinct demanded of him; to kiss her to make her shut up. 

* * *

Two distinct sounds of footsteps echoed as one in the goddess tower. Byleth was unsurprised that Felix had insisted (more demanded) that he accompany her when she visited what Felix called 'the Boar's sty'. Byleth attempted to refuse the swordsman's demand, however, his stubbornness won out over her reluctance. With a plate of food in one hand, Byleth unbuckled the belt that held her relic and dagger then handed it off to a horrified Felix.

Stepping back he refused to accept the belt. His amber eyes glared with a ferocity that was more adorable than intimidating. Against her ear, Felix hissed in a low, demanding tone. "You're not serious. There is no fucking way I'm letting you go up unarmed." This time when his tone softened, every word Felix whispered against her ear pulled at something deep within her. "Let me come upstairs with you. The Boar swore to use you..."

Despite the warmth that had settled throughout her body, Byleth blew out an annoyed breath. She pushed the relic belt into the swordsman's chest and leaned in. With their noses nearly touching, Byleth whispered another demand of her own. "Either take the belt and sit down or go back to your dorm. You'll only antagonize Dimitri and make things worse if you go up there." 

Byleth realized she had put herself in a terrible position. Aside from the heat burning her own face, she felt the heat radiating off Felix's face. It was becoming harder for her to breathe normally. Byleth pushed down the obvious affection she felt towards the swordsman and refused to flinch. This was **not** the time to let Felix rip apart the mask she needed to wear in order to deal with Dimitri's condition. They continued to whisper in softer tones, each word nearly bouncing off the other's lips.

With a smirk, Felix teased. "Do I look some obedient hound to you, Professor?" 

She rebutted with the truth. "The only similarity you have to a hound is your loyalty. Though both wolves and hounds **do** belong to the same family." 

He laughed...Felix Fraldarius had actually laughed at her dumb comment. Quickly his laughter fell into a frown. "How will I know if you're actually in trouble?"

Byleth placed her hand on the swordsman's shoulder and squeezed. She had done this action before as a professor to reassure her students. Now she wondered when Felix's shoulders became so firm. "I'll call out for you if I need you. I promise." Hopefully, it was a promise she would never need to use. 

Even though she was so close to this lips, Byleth barely understood Felix when he muttered. "Fine." If Bthe former professor didn't know her former student's demeanor she'd swear he'd just pouted. "But if you insist on visiting the Boar unarmed, our next sparring sessions will be hand-to-hand." The swordsman sat down with her relic under, and his sword over his knees. "You'll never overpower the Crest of Blaiddyd, but size and strength matter less on the ground."

With a smile, Byleth conceded. "Fine."

Nights with the former prince always left Byleth emotionally and mentally drained. Because of this, she had begun to hold the nights of physical exhaustion and emotional relief alongside Felix close. She had no intention of putting a halt to their sessions. It was nice to physically hear he had similar thoughts instead of the assumption.

As she finished her ascent to the top, the former mercenary had difficulty forcing down the smile plastered onto her face.

Nights spent with the former prince were always tense. Between herself and Gilbert whoever was on duty that night brought the former prince dinner and stayed a while to attempt to drag him out of his madness. Tonight the mood at the top of the tower was eerie. Byleth usually expected an acknowledgment that she had ascended the tower, but tonight for the past hour whatever Dimitri had become, remained silent as he ate. Byleth momentarily contemplated bringing up Randolph von Bergliez, but she couldn't determine how the former price would react. The swordsman might have been close by in a worst-case scenario, but Byleth had no intention of pushing things to that point.

"You Faerghus boys always boasted how much colder your territories were than Garreg Mach. So is the temperature here even with Fhirdiad or warmer?" No response was given; not even a glance up at her when she spoke. "We begin the march to Ailell soon. Are the Faerghus natives going to die from the heat in the middle of Winter?" Nothing. Byleth searched her mind for a topic the former prince would respond to. 

"You once told me you'd stand by me, Dimitri. Through anything. Until the bitter end." The memory of her father's funeral always left a bitter taste in her mouth. "I realized the other day that no matter how I feel about...you...I've already cast my lot." It was the unsettling truth Byleth had realized perhaps too late. "Through anything. Until the bitter end. I'm here to stand by you and guide you the best I can." Steeling herself she began to broach the sensitive topic. 

"I can appreciate that the dead are demanding you to do these awful things. That's an illness." Byleth offered, hoping to direct the conversation in a useful direction. "If we took Fhirdiad first, we can find you a good, discrete doctor." More silence, not even a comment about Enbarr. She raised her voice in his direction. "Do you even want to get better?"The moment the phrase left her lips she regretted the word choice. It was a fact that there were some things that your mind just couldn't control. However, if she apologized wouldn't she also admit there was nothing she could do for her for me student. That he was, in fact, a lost cause. "You don't have to listen to them. I can appreciate that listening to those ghosts is the easy path. However, if you have any control you need to start fighting the urge to listen." No reaction came from the former prince. Byleth audibly sighed.

Making her way towards the outside of the tower she broke one of her rules; never turn your back on an enemy. As much as she hated to admit that fact. Even though Byleth had indeed cast her lot in with him. The former prince's illness made him too unpredictable to be considered anything else in her plans.

Throughout the long night, the former star pupil continued to say not a word to the former professor. It was only when the former price closed his eye with exhaustion that Byleth made her descent down the tower. Drooping amber eyes met hers and for once did not immediately look away. The lingering silence she endured with the former prince had felt frustrating, exhausting. Yet as she and Felix walked in step to the dorms, that same lingering silence felt comfortable...rather...comforting.

* * *

As Felix sat perched outside of the old classrooms, he cursed Sylvain. This was all his fault...some friend that paladin turned out to be.

“The army might not get another chance to blow off steam for another few moons.” Sylvain had pointed that fact out to their professor when he brought up the idea of a socializer. “I’m sure you don’t intend on returning to Garreg Mach once we join with the Fraldarius troops. You haven't said as much at the war council but I know better. You’ll use the monastery for our reserves, and treatment of the wounded. Many of these soldiers will never see one another again.”

The professor shrugged with a knowing look at the paladin. “That would mean abandoning my _sacred duty_ as archbishop.” She rolled her eyes in tandem with the title 'archbishop'. She asked Sylvain sarcastically. “How could I _ever_ do that?" After a pause, their professor acquiesced and sunk back into writing letters. "As long no one is hungover for the march, do as you please.”

Felix twisted the sleeves of his white doublet with his ungloved fingers as the dancers in the line clapped along to a reel from the Kingdom. As successful as he was glaring away the advances of women asking him for a dance, he was helpless when it came to his professor. Throughout the evening the music had alternated between folk reels and more traditional waltzes. And just like the winter ball, each time a song ended the professor found another hand outstretched for another round. 

As a nameless soldier led the half-smiling professor down between the line of dancers Felix shook his head. This **had** been what he wanted for her after all. To relax before she succumbed to stress. Wasn't it? After all, tomorrow would be spent packing supplies for the beginning of their campaign the morning after. Still when the soldier linked arms with his professor spinning her into yet another's man's arms a heat swelled within Felix's chest and ears. Try as he might deny it, Felix knew the emotion; jealously.

As the final notes of the song faded the professor slipped away past him into the classroom. Felix realized he could have stopped her right there if he had wanted to. There wasn't a reason she would have refused him just one dance. And after so many partners throughout the night...that dance wouldn't have meant anything. Another waltz began and yet another woman attempted to lure him into the quad's grass for a dance. From a purely aesthetic standpoint, he supposed someone like Sylvain would have considered her attractive, but the only thing Felix considered the female was an annoyance. 

Midway through the dance, Felix stalked into the former Blue Lions classroom. As he drew near his now occupied professor, she looked up at him momentarily before burying herself back into the map of Ailell on her desk. Closer still he noticed the gentle tap of her quill against the desk in time with the music's beat. What his instinct pled of him wasn't so outrageous this time. A dance meant nothing. It was just two separate bodies who moved together just like they had before on the battlefield. 

"Trying to find quiet again Professor? I suppose the classroom is better than some other options." She glared up from the parchment at him, unamused by his comment. "It seemed like every man tonight wanted to dance with you _again_." _This isn't helping idiot._ "You know you could have asked me to dance when you passed me by." _**So **much better._

The professor placed the quill into the pot and made eye contact with him. "I would never pressure you to dance when you don't enjoy it. You rejected just as many partners as I accepted." Felix didn't immediately have an answer to that question. The answer he came up with irritated him. _They weren't you._ _Why is everything with this stubborn woman so damn hard for me? _

Felix approached the professor and grumbling held out his hand. "Don't make me say it." 

As another waltz began his professor placed her hand into his. Securely Felix placed that hand onto her black blouse which covered her waist, leaving his other hand behind his back. Firmly the former mercenary's hand was placed onto his shoulder and unlike the winter ball when he frowned at her touch...Felix felt himself relax.

For just a few beats they gently swayed together. His professor's head was slightly cocked to the side while her green eyes drilled into him, studying his reddening expression. He ground his teeth as he found the strength to not break her gaze. Slowly in the back of the old classroom, Felix began to lead his through the turns. When the steps became more complex the former mercenary faltered. While some might have found the missteps and bumps of their partner infuriating, Felix found it endearing. She wasn't a noble...hells she wasn't like other women. If he gave her a sword in combat she would have danced just fine with him. Felix paused. _That sword. _

Instead of continuing the traditional steps of the waltz, Felix swayed again with his professor. 

"I need to know something, Professor?" All she gave him was a short 'hm?' "Years ago you gave me that silver sword. I never knew there was an inscription until I thought you were dead. What was that? Did you do that for all of us?"

"I was wondering if that was the same blade. I'm surprised you kept it." She moved her head from side to side bouncing the inquiry around in her mind. "I gave all of you students gifts at some point if that is your question." The professor wasn't lying, but those were also birthday gifts. "I admit yours was more personal." 

"You can't stop there...in what way was it more personal?" Felix wasn't sure what he wanted...needed to hear. He knew his professor was too professional to have feelings for any of her students that early. Unfortunately, if she had the Boar probably would have had him beat with his 'prince charming' act

"You were a good student who seemed to need someone on their side and a kick in the ass. I'm sorry you only saw the inscription after...I slept." The hand behind his back came forward and entangled together with her soft fingers. His professor's eyes still searched his when she asked. "Did you ever find the answer to that question? Did you ever find your drive to become strong?" He closed his eyes to stop her intrusion while he thought of an answer. 

It was during the professor's five-year absence that Felix realized the answer. His original drive to become stronger was to surpass Glenn. He wanted to be acknowledged as his own person, and leave his deceased brother's looming shadow. Along the way, he found a stronger opponent than the memory of his brother, and while his professor's shadow didn't loom over Felix he had still craved her acknowledgment. An acknowledgment that he was an equal had been given before the defense, yet he still craved to become stronger, and for once it wasn't just stronger in combat. _But why? _

The response Felix offered her felt incomplete. "Yes. I suppose I did. Though that reason has changed over time."

Felix did not deny his instincts when they told him to pull her closer, enough that now once again her heavy breath swayed against his lips as they swayed together. With his heart pounding within his chest and his cheeks lit aflame Felix found his new answer to his professor's aged question. She was immensely strong and stubborn. She would never stop improving. Felix had just won his place out of her shadow...at her side...as her equal. To stay at her side, he would have to keep pace with her. Even the thought of falling behind made his chest ache with...regret. _SHIT. _

With his newfound answer within his arms, Felix opened his eyes. His intuition had never been wrong in the past, so why had he been ignoring it lately? His professor's cheeks were dusted a light pink color as she bit her lower lip, upturned into a smile. A smile that was much wider than the one she wore while dancing on the grass.

Felix surrendered himself to his instincts and rest his forehead upon hers. Whether there was still music playing was both unknown with the loud beating of his heart in his ears and unimportant. If he could just build up the guts to trust his instinct one more time tonight...

Two voices outside of the classroom called for their professor. Before Felix could form a scowl he felt a pair of lips brush against his cheek. He blinked, then gawked as his mind emptied of every thought that wasn't the warm sensation lingering against his skin. As she pulled away to deal with the intruders Felix reactively tightened his fingers still intertwined with hers and followed. He watched as she pursed the very lips that were just against his skin and exhaled before she stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Their joined fingers were luckily hidden by the wall. 

The professor raised her eyebrow at his former classmates waiting for an explanation. It was Ingrid who Felix heard speak. "Professor, take a look outside isn't it obvious? We have snow, just like at home." Under her breath, she muttered 'shit'. She untangled her fingers from his and began jogging away from the classroom into the snow. It was then that his facilities finally returned to him.

Gazing out into the falling snow two considerations rushed through Felix's mind. First, his professor somehow had won the first round of this particular session of sparring. He would be damned if she took another round from him. Second, his professor was a brilliant individual. However, the damnable woman had just jogged out into the snow, to an unknown location without a cloak. If the cold didn't kill his former professor, he was going to be the first in line. Felix pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and followed the still fresh tracks of her boots.

* * *

In battle, Byleth felt confident going head to head against most enemies. Mother nature was not among them. In the night air, her current enemy fell and accumulated onto the ramparts around her. Byleth huddled next to a blazing brazier for warmth and watched as yet another cart was dragged through the snow into cover. Wet wood, after all, would make for wet, ruined supplies when they loaded the caravan in the morning. Mages with their wind spells would have to be roused from their slumber in perhaps another two hours to keep the road out of Garreg Mach clean. Byleth shook her head. Tonight's battle was just beginning but with the plan of attack in place, she had no part in it. 

To her right, Felix's unamused amber eyes peered out from under his warm cloak. At some point, Byleth knew she and Felix would have to discuss the reckless action she had taken against her former student. Only moments before that kiss she had stated she would never pressure him to dance. That kiss made her a hypocrite. Surely he felt some kind of pressure. But to do what? _ Hypocrite...__what were you thinking? _

She knew exactly what she was thinking. In a sea of demands and stress, Byleth had found a safe harbor within that swordsman. In that single moment, she had made the mistake of wanting more. More of what had made her feel sane and secure. More of what had made her feel like more than just a highly valued pawn in this war. That kiss had probably ruined that. At this point, all Byleth hoped for was that Felix was still willing to work alongside her so she wouldn't be alone in this war. But then again the way Felix's fingers wrapped around hers...

The cold of the night pierced Byleth as she stepped away from the warm fire. Byleth supposed the bitterness of the cold could be worse. At least her blouse covered her arms while her riding pants and boots covered her legs. As she descended the rampart into the monastery she was pleasantly surprised that the swordsman fell in step beside her. _ Maybe not everything is ruined, he isn't avoiding me. _

The monastery itself was deserted, everyone was either dealing with the carts or snuggly asleep in their beds. When another spike of cold ripped through the former mercenary she shivered and tightly crossed her arms for warmth. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spied Felix looking over at her from the corner of his eyes. A small frown accompanied a worried look in his eyes. Byleth still considered Felix too overprotective for his own health, but then again that was how he showed how much he cared for his friends. _ At least we're still friends. _

Felix looked away from her as he sourly grumbled. "What kind supposedly brilliant tactician forgets to wear a cloak in the middle of winter?" In place of the cold and the falling snow, a warmth suddenly enveloped Byleth as most of Felix's teal cloak and his arm laid over her shoulder.

Just past the training grounds, Felix turned his head back towards Byleth. The swordsman's eyes had darkened and narrowed at her, while his lips were pressed into a line. The only time the swordsman wore that face was during sparring sessions, and in combat on the battlefield. Caught completely off guard, Byleth's impulse was to pull away from her sparring partner and into a ready position for combat. Reading her movement the muscles in Felix's arm on her shoulder tightened around her, and pulled her close to his chest. Their noses collided as a pair of rough lips pressed against hers.

For a split-second with the way time paused, Byleth wondered if she had accidentally triggered a pulse. The still falling snow around her meant that was not the case. The gears in the former mercenary's mind spun faster than they ever had before. She wished the divine pulse was effective on it just to have it stop for one moment to sort through everything. Every thought was blaring but the loudest was that Felix "love and romance are distractions" Fraldarius had just kissed her.

She felt the weight of his hands on her shoulders holding her tighter still towards him. Even as Byleth's mental world spun around her, she managed to meet his next kiss midway. Through the dizzying noise that echoed in Byleth's skull, a soft murmur broke though. "Professor—" Finally the world came back into focus. Gently something warm glossed over against her lips and teased them apart. 

Even if this was not her first kiss. No, that was on a drunken night in Morfis as a girl to a boy who didn't speak the same language as her. This was perhaps her most dangerous one. Byleth tried to warn him sternly but it came out more as a plead. "Felix, you can't still call me 'Professor' if you kiss—"

Maybe hearing his name did something to the swordsman. A third kiss crashed against her swallowing the words she had tried to form. Byleth finally yielded to the siege Felix had laid against her lips and allowed his tongue entrance. There was no alcohol or stress to blame for the way she allowed herself to become lost in that kiss. It was inelegant, a mess of teeth more than anything, yet she wanted more when he pulled away. 

Still so close to her lips he whispered. "And you can't call me Fraldarius after kissing me back like that." With a smile, Byleth almost spoke but stopped when she felt his lips move against her own forming soft syllables. When those syllables finally rolled off his tongue her breath hitched. "...Byleth..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth is not a doctor when it comes to PTSD, anxiety, or depression. As unrealistic as Dimitri's recovery in the canon would be, it needs to be covered. I one hundred percent acknowledge that so much of those illnesses can just be a chemical imbalance which the afflicted patient cannot control. I hope I was able to be fair both to Dimitri's actual mental condition, while also covering how frustrating dealing with those conditions are for those around the patient.
> 
> Alright now that the necessary mea culpa is over. I've had that first kiss on the cheek roughly sketched in my mind since October.  
Hopefully it didn't feel too rushed.
> 
> Note for Consistency: Chapter ends on the 3rd


	6. Perfect Tea Time (Pegasus Moon 1185)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special occasion occurs on the march to Ailell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot promise that time spent moving between locations will stay consistent or even make sense. Then again the game tells us we can leave Garreg Mach on the last day of the month and reach anywhere on the map. So we'll be discarding that canon as well as the assumption that all battles take place on the last day of every month.

Roughly two weeks ago the march to Ailell began under a cloudy grey sky. After a few battalions were selected, a bewildered Seteth had gawked at the notion of sharing command of the reserves with the equally bewildered Sylvain. Included among the reserves were Ashe who was placed in charge of 'requisitioning' supplies both from the land and from enemies, Mercedes who was assigned to establish a regional hospital for local operations and Annette who continued communication with potential allies in an effort to obtain more troops and supplies.

Roughly two weeks ago Felix found himself embraced with his professor....with his former professor....with Byleth. Even after two weeks, her name felt foreign in his mind, let alone on his lips. In his former classmates' annoying tales of romance, a kiss always sparked a major change. His classmates were full of shit. The march to Ailell had changed more to his routine than the kiss. Instead of physical labor, daylight for the past three weeks had been spent exclusively on horseback. Instead of three meals throughout the day, after making camp one hot meal was served. Otherwise, rationed dried meat and fruits were expected to be consumed as necessary. Just like before the kiss, nights spent with his former professor had alternated between their (now hand to hand to prevent injury) sparring sessions and her fruitless attempts to tame the Boar. At least the sound damping stone of the goddess tower had been replaced with the cloth of tents. The candlelight projected their shadows outside of the tent, making the beast's interactions with his former professor easier to monitor. Not that there had been anything to monitor with the Boar's continual silence since the defense of Garreg Mach. Ironically the same thin cloth which brought Felix sanity when his former professor was alone with the Boar also brought Felix irritation when she was alone with him. After all, the threat of a projected shadow was not exclusive to the Boar and words spoken above a whisper carried beyond the tent. 

As the first leg of the campaign neared its destination snow gave way to volcanic rock and temperatures which baked those wearing full sets of armor. Unfortunately, the temperature alone could not boil the supplies of water collected whenever it was available. Next to one of the miserably hot campfires which purified the day's water supply, Felix watched the first rays of the sun paint the sky a menacing reddish-black. Around him, sweat-soaked soldiers tore down what remained of night's campsite. He was surprised when his former professor brazenly plopped herself and her saddlebags down on the warm rock beside him. Even with her hair tied into a bun, stray strands were already plastered against the back of her neck and forehead. 

After his former professor gave the soldiers around them a quick glance, she rummaged through a saddlebag. "If I knew how hot the area around Ailell was, I would have gifted this to you while there was still snow." Out of the saddlebag, she retrieved a sealed tin which Felix recognized as tea. "To think I was ready to give you Faerghus natives a hard time when you wilted to the heat."

Upon closer inspection, the gifted tea was not part of the rations but his preferred Four Spice Blend. Felix tried to keep the confusion away from his face as he accepted her gift but wondered what the occasion was. After all, even in times of peace, this particular blend was costly and with a war in progress, he didn't want to imagine the price gouging. The answer came swiftly when Byleth lowered her voice and whispered with a wide smile. "It isn't much but Happy Birthday Felix." 

With widening eyes, Felix wondered why Byleth was so certain that today was his birthday. The way time had bled together it could have been the Lone Moon by now for all he knew. When her smile faded the swordsman recognized he'd let his silence last too long. "I—I had no idea it was my birthday." He admitted with a half-smile that coxed her smile to return. "Thank you..." He tried to pull Byleth's name out of his throat to no avail. With a sarcastic tone, he continued "So Sylvain pilfers booze from our supposedly rationed supplies while you pilfer tea. Is it my turn to steal something from our storerooms next?"

With a snicker his former professor replied. "Sorry to disappoint you, but stealing from the storerooms would require traveling back to Garreg Mach." She pulled a tin-lined copper mug from her saddlebag and filled it with her waterskin. "Will you join me for tea or is it too warm for your taste?"

With a nod, Felix passed over a mug of his own and the Four Spice Blend to be shared between them. After all, according to one of his former professor's seminars, it was important to maintain some semblance of normalcy in times of conflict. Somehow on this birthday, even as flames lapped against their mugs to boil the water within, nothing seemed more normal than sharing tea with his former professor.

* * *

Five years ago no matter what else was on her schedule Professor Eisner always set a block of time aside on her students' birthdays for tea. Five years ago Felix at eighteen had only shared tea with his professor once she promised to spar him afterward. Five years ago even the young student was surprised by how much thought his professor had put into her small celebration with him. As expected (though none of his classmates understood how) she had prepared his favorite tea. Unexpected though by the young swordsman was the lack of the traditional sweets which accompanied a tea service. Instead, she had chosen an unorthodox spread of spiced cookies that often clashed with the Four Spice Blend. Still, Professor Eisner's gesture had been kind even if the young student hadn't said as much.

* * *

"Prof—" Felix stopped himself but still couldn't force her name from his lips. "Knowing how often you shared tea you must have tried most of what Fódlan offers. You know my favorite blend but I don't know yours." For some reason, the former mercenary looked stunned. _Has no one asked this question before?_

"As a mercenary, I drank coffee instead of tea. I was more concerned with a cheap source of caffeine than the flavor. I didn't drink tea regularly until I became Professor Eisner." His former professor pulled the copper mugs from the flames. "Leicester Cortania was a nice dessert tea with enough caffeine to keep me awake while grading papers, but my favorite for flavor is the Sweet Apple Blend, even if it doesn't have any caffeine."

As the tea leaves steeped from the prepared linen bags Byleth chuckled. "Ferdinand and Lorenz would be outraged at this tea service. I wonder if they hauled around full tea sets when the Empire marched them—" Felix wanted to know what the former mercenary was about to say, as far he knew Lorenz was Alliance. "We have plenty of time to discuss the war later. If I haven't told you yet, you're doing great work assisting me."

Felix couldn't tell if he was just too warm or if he was blushing. "Tch. You don't need to flatter me. Blades, blood, and battle are what I'm made of. They're what I know and what I'm good at."

"That is horseshit. No one, the two of us included, is made entirely of combat. Come on, you know my interests outside of combat."

She wasn't incorrect in her assessment. His former professor had plenty of interests that had no link to combat or its preparation, and so did he. However, Felix worried if he admitted that to her, she would laugh at him. Then again she had placed trust in him thus far... 

He mumbled under his breath refusing to let anyone but his former professor hear his confession. "The opera." Felix swallowed hard. "Maybe the theater in general." She lifted an eyebrow, but it wasn't in a confused manner. "Have you ever been to the theater?" Byleth shook her head. _I wonder if you'd like it. _"Well, they tell various stories...sometimes but not always with music. Comedies always end with a happy ending, and tragedies usually always have some deep message behind it. I think what I enjoy the most is the fact that they don't _always_ paint chivalry in a positive light. The characters make mistakes and often pay dearly for them. They're hardly role models like in so many of the books certain people insist I read."

Byleth's lips were parted into a smile. In moments like this Felix missed the relative privacy of Garreg Mach. Until nightfall another opportunity to be somewhat alone would not come. Even there if they lingered for more than just a goodnight kiss once the candlelight was extinguished a solider would notice and certainly inform his old man. Unfortunately, there was no indication of if or when things would get better. Soon, Fraldarius troops would merge with theirs. He could only hope his estranged father would not stick around.

As their tea finished steeping the swordsman accepted that he would have to enjoy these small moments as Byleth and Felix. Moments where the eyes of the soldiers were focused on their work instead of on their de facto commander (as well as tactician) spending time with her apparent right hand.

* * *

Ailell had been born of the goddess's rage against humanity's corruption so Gilbert had explained. To Byleth it was far fetched that a pillar of light terraformed a forest into this canyon of ash and lava. Dismounting her horse, the former mercenary wiped her eyes of sweat for what felt like the hundredth time since entering Ailell. No matter the religious myth, Byleth at least understood how the moniker 'Valley of Torment' came to be...Rodrigue Fraldarius could not arrive soon enough. As if he were on cue, the heir of Fraldarius dismounted with his normal darkened expression. However, different today was how high strung the swordsman seemed as he anxiously prowled about scoping around the canyon. Byleth wondered if he had injured his sword-hand with the way he repeatedly clenched and unclenched it.

Troops were scattered about when Gilbert eventually made an offhanded comment behind the former mercenary. "Did I just see movement near the mountains?" She scanned the area for the aforementioned movement as the fortress knight continued. "Are those Rodrigue's soldiers?" Her blood ran cold when she did not recognize the emblem on the banner. "No, but their banner is that of. No! it can't be—"

The scream "Ambush!" came too late. 

Even though she remembered charging forward, the Ashen Demon found herself pushed onto the ground, face-up as a painful thoron spell surged through her left arm. Draped limply over her right shoulder, a white doublet with the Aegis Shield attached resembled a pincushion filled with arrows. The charcoal-like stench of burnt flesh invaded her nose, but it was the source of the stench that filled her throat with bile. The entire right side of a familiar teal cloak had been burnt away by the electrical jolt and blackened the skin underneath. The dilated pupils of Felix Hugo Fraldarius met hers as his shallow breath became rapid. He had been too overprotective for his own fucking good and now would succumb to shock.

_The Ashen Demon doesn't feel a thing. You need to focus now. The Ashen Demon doesn't feel a thing. _

The mantra repeated in her mind as she reached out not towards the dying swordsman, but towards time itself. With a painful _thump _of the crest stone where the _thump_ of her heart should have been, time pulsed to a stop. Gritting her teeth, the same thoron spell painfully crept though her body in reverse as the flow of time changed direction. The Ashen Demon allowed herself to be lifted back onto her feet before she paused the flow of time again. Quickly she took stock of the situation. The fortress knight had successfully raised his shield in time to protect the unpredictable former prince. At least that was one less complication to consider.

The ambush had been set in the west where the unknown banners were now raised. The archers must have been set up in their position for hours beforehand considering how separated they were from the rest of the host. As arrows left their victims and the resulting wounds closed as if nothing happened, the Ashen Demon attempted to follow the thoron spell to its caster as it left her body. The bolt of lightning returned among the archers. A disturbing thought entered her mind. _Was that an assassination attempt?_

Shaking her head, the Ashen Demon set her focus onto the swordsman's path next.

_The Ashen Demon doesn't feel a thing. Fraldarius is still alive, that was all preventable. The Ashen Demon doesn't feel a thing._

She began to physically follow his movement. With each arrow that left his arm, it became obvious why Fraldarius used his body to absorb the thoron instead of the Aegis Shield. Even with the swordsman's strength, his arm must have been shattered by the time he reached her. Still, the Ashen Demon needed to know not why Fraldarius protected her, but how he knew to protect her.

A potential answer was found a few moments after the last arrow exited his shield-arm. The ambush hadn't started yet so Fraldarius wouldn't have been wounded. Yet as the swordsman fixed his sights on the spot where she would have stood, his face was twisted in pain with the back of his sword-hand held close to his chest. Unfortunately, she had no right to investigate his body without his consent but it was clear that the swordsman hadn't told her something. Once more the flow reversed, back to the moment the army entered the canyon.

Before the Ashen Demon loosed her hold on the flow of time to change fate, she gave Fraldarius one last look.

That was a mistake.

_The Ashen Demon doesn't feel a thing. Felix will be fine if you just focus. The Ashen Demon doesn't feel a thing. _

Felix **would** live through this battle, Byleth would ensure that. Still, after watching the swordsman in his final moments her carefully constructed mask had fallen at an inconvenient time. The former mercenary felt an unquenched ache in her gut. Slowly Byleth ran her fingers over Felix's cheek then placed a tender kiss against it. It didn't feel right to kiss the swordsman's lips without his knowledge even if that's what she wanted. 

Resisting the urge to sweep a stray strand of indigo hair back into place, Byleth took a deep breath and decided on her course of action. She again slipped on the mask of the Ashen Demon and took her spot on her horse to Felix's left as she had before the ambush. Time again flowed normally as Gilbert once again told the story of the goddess's wrath against humanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses on what's up with Felix?
> 
> Hopefully my take on how the Divine Pulse works made sense to everyone. If not, feel free to say so in the comments and I'll definitely respond. I had this chapter done early Christmas Eve (before all the chaos) but I felt the material wasn't the best for a happy holiday.


	7. Ambush at Ailell (Pegasus Moon 1185)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House Rowe's ambush is foiled by the Divine Pulse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aka the chapter where I wrote myself into a corner and had to bullshit my way through flipping an ambush. This chapter kicked my ass so hard. At least my playthroughs of Total War: Warhammer came in handy. This was also the chapter I realized how large scale these battles would actually be with dread. Large scale battles are a bitch so I hope I was able to convey what was happening well enough.

Felix paid Gustave little attention as the deadbeat father started to explain how Ailell had been born of the goddess's rage against humanity's corruption. The swordsman never believed the propaganda which the Church of Seiros fed its followers, and today would not be the day he began. Besides as the swordsman rode horseback alongside his former professor, all of his focus was directed on the prickly sensation from his sword-hand. It would be obvious the Crest of Fraldarius had manifested if the yellow glow was not hidden by the heavy, sweaty padding of his leather gloves. Something was about to go wrong.

The crest passed down from the original Fraldarius of the ten elites had been used to serve House Blaiddyd since the establishment of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. A chapter in the "Sword of Kyphon" told the story of how his ancestor saved Loog from an assassination attempt during the War of the Eagle and Lion. The public (including House Blaiddyd) were led to believe it was providence that guided Kyphon's blade to parry the assassin's dagger. Yes, the true power of the crest was hidden from even the royal family itself. For it was not the goddess's hand but rather Kyphon's Crest of Fraldarius that ensured the first King of Faerghus survived.

Generations passed and the House Fraldarius secret endured. While the crest bought House Fraldarius the power it wielded...too many ancestors had fallen for Felix to consider it anything other than a curse. A curse that was not exclusive to its male heirs. It was the Crest of Fraldarius bone by Felix's grandmother that shielded the Boar's grandfather from an explosion on their way to trade negotiations. Saving the Blaiddyd cost House Fraldarius two lives that day; the heavily pregnant Duchess Fraldarius and the daughter she carried. 

Felix was four when he witnessed the curse himself for the first time. Felix's father was dubbed the 'Shield of Faerghus' for his heroics during the invasion of Sreng. When Rodrigue returned to Fraldarius territory he told of how his title was won. When the enemy set an ambush the Crest of Fraldarius alerted Rodrigue. Arrows meant for King Lambert were successfully deflected, but a chieftain's blade was the real threat. A younger Felix and Glenn hung onto their father's every word. They both looked up to their father and idolized his ideals. That idolization could not prevent the tears that fell when a younger Felix saw the enormous wound across his father's chest from saving the Blaiddyd.

When the tragedy of Duscur occurred it was inferred through a young Dimitri's account that Glenn's Crest of Fraldarius saved his life. Shakily the young prince told of how Felix's brother, against all odds, hid him away from the initial slaughter then lured the conspirators away. At twelve Felix buried any relationship he had with his father alongside what was left of Glenn; his armor. His brother's body was never recovered. 

At seventeen, the Crest of Fraldarius triggered without Felix's consent for the first time during the Rite of Rebirth. Before that day Felix had been able to activate the crest manually for its adrenaline-like boost because he possessed a major form of the crest. As his fellow students descended into the Holy Mausoleum his sword-hand began to mildly sting. The image of a knight wielding a massive scythe flashed before his mind's eyes. The moment the young swordsman laid eyes upon the Death Knight he saw the Boar's bloody corpse under the enemy's boot. Just as the foolish beast began his charge, Professor Eisner intervened. She grabbed the Boar by the scruff of his armor, then pushed him towards the edge of the room. The sensation in his hand stopped and did not unintentionally manifest again until the unsuccessful defense of Garreg Mach. 

That night amongst the smoke and fire the young swordsman saw the image of a strange mage who wore heavy armor. Both his hair and eyes were white or, perhaps more accurately his eyes seemingly lacked an iris or pupil. A younger Felix never saw the mage or the strange purple spell he wielded. When the ragged boy finally reached his own territory he didn't give a damn that the heir was missing. Still, Felix explained how he never saw the Blaiddyd die in the warning he received.

A bead of sweat trickled down a stray strand of hair as Felix dismounted alongside his former professor. Almost instantaneously when the swordsman touched the ground an image flashed through his mind's eye; a bald mage with lightning that crackled from his fingertips. Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing where the enemy would strike. The entire valley appeared similar to the warning. Refusing to sacrifice himself to prevent the Boar's demise, Felix tried to figure out how to avoid the crossfire. Anxiety coursed through his veins when the stinging sensation from the Crest of Fraldarius increased. A strong squeeze on Felix's left bicep by a familiar black gauntlet caused warmth to spread throughout his body. Temporarily the swordsman forgot about the pain in his hand.

"Officers." The former mercenary was emotionless as she barked. "Why are my troops at ease? Act like a professional military and get them into a curved formation. Evens west. Odds east. Be ready to shift at a moment's notice. Ground calvary head east to scout, air calvary stay on the backline and wait for instruction."

Facing towards the main, north entrance of the canyon, fortress knights formed the front line of the curve while archers and other footsoldiers lined behind them. Glancing at the former mercenary, Felix noticed something was odd. Her already narrowed eyes kept darting west as if she expected to see something. More disturbing was how her face was as ashen as her moniker.

Felix kept his voice low. "Are you okay?" She tugged on his doublet in response, warning him to keep pace. Felix supposed this was to be expected. After all, this was the Ashen Demon, not his former professor who he dealt with now. As they neared Gustave and the frontline, he swore she began a countdown. 

Down the line, the Ashen Demon sent a message; "Movement in the rocks on the west. Mages, begin your chants and release on my signal. Archers make your calculations now but wait to draw your arrows."

Felix had kept a casual eye on the west and never saw the aforementioned movement. After a moment, there was movement but it was near the mountains in the west. Gustave and the rest of the fortress knights raised their shields in preparation.

Gustave observed. "Are those Rodrigue's soldiers?" When the banner of the Grey Lion, Lord Gwendal peaked over the ridge, Felix's blood boiled. The Elder Knight belonged to House Rowe...one of the families that sold out Faerghus. "No, but their banner is that of. No! it can't be—"

The Ashen Demon lifted her arm vertically then sharply dropped it. As soon as her hand dropped, precise wind spells left the mages' fingertips and launched a thick cloud of ash into the air between the formation and the rocks. Past the makeshift smokescreen, the first rank of archers loosed their arrows. The pain in Felix's hand subsided just as the ash cleared away. Enemy corpses lay upon the rocks, their bodies full of arrows. There was no time for Felix to consider why the Ashen Demon's scheme worked; House Rowe's host was on the move.

Down the mountain ridge, mounted enemy lancers charged towards the formation to break it. Behind the horsemen, a tidal wave of enemy footsoldiers followed behind. The lancers battered into the fortress knights, pressing the tight formation back in some places. But for the time being nothing broke. As the lancers withdrew to attempt a charge at a different angle, the second rank of archers snapped a volley at them hoping to thin their number and drive them off.

Conventional warfare was not a matter of killing your opponents, rather it was a matter of breaking their morale to cause a rout. In was in those routs not combat where most casualties piled up. Orders were relayed from the Ashen Demon through the lines. The eastern curve slowly rotated counterclockwise to give support to where the combat had broken out. Pegasus knights took flight and launched a volley of javelins at the incoming wave of footsoldiers before flying away. Whether mounted as lancers, flying as pegasus knights or slow as fortress knights, knights were always the best trained and most disciplined part of a Faerghus army. Common footsoldiers, peasants who made up the bulk of a force, mostly spearmen and on occasion swordsmen, were neither. As the wave crashed into the line the first rank of archers fired into the line. By the second rank's next volley, the wave was breaking.

The Ashen Demon extended her arm towards the rear, then swung her arm forward overhead with her palm down. That was the signal to advance. With his shield up, Felix stepped into the narrow opening and waited for the inevitable _crack_ from the Sword of the Creator. In a flash, the whip extended and widened the passage allowing the two of them to slip into their familiar rhythm. Avoiding the pools of lava, they slowly advanced and tore into the chaos of the footsoldiers around them. 

From overhead Ingrid and her battalion dove the footsoldiers ripping them apart with lances. She handed the Ashen Demon something before retreating into the safety of the air. Ingrid shouted down. "Professor, House Fraldarius's banner entered the valley. Duke Fraldarius is personally leading the charge on the enemy flank from the north. He said this was a souvenir and to put it to good use."

His old man had just handed his former professor the Sword of Moralta; a sacred weapon passed down through Fraldarius generations since the original elite. The blade Glenn wielded when he lived. This just proved how little his father thought of him. The Ashen Demon sheathed the Sword of the Creator and gave the sacred blade an experimental swipe. Their rhythm continued further west into the fleeing wave of soldiers. 

They neared the rocks where the ambush of archers had been set up. The Grey Lion's banner laid just beyond them. Felix heard the _clang _of a blade against a shield. He didn't need to think about who's blade had been parried before turning to stab the fortress knight's flank. The swordsman hasn't noticed that the Boar had been a step behind him until the beast pushed past. Tumbling off-balance towards the ground, Felix dropped his sword. The impact from the rocks tore up his pants and knees. 

The bald mage from the warning rose from where he'd been hiding. As the caster reached towards Felix sparks emitted from his thumb and forefinger; a fire spell. The swordsman scrambled to get back onto his feet and unsheathe his spare silver blade. A blur of black and mint slammed into the mage but was dragged down. A charcoal-like smell and expletives from the Ashen Demon's mouth filled the air.

Felix didn't have time to be pissed off at the damnable women for putting herself in harm's way. A shuffle of movement behind him forced the swordman to turn away from the scuffle to parry a spear and dispose of its wielder.

Injuring Byleth was not an option so Felix could not intervene with his sword. However, there was always a dagger sheathed on the side of her right hip. If the damnable woman was still in trouble Felix would take the situation into his own hands. 

The sound of movement came from the direction of the scuffle, the Aegis Shield met the face of an enemy swordsman while Felix's silver sword sliced through the enemy's arm. When Felix glanced over at the brawl the damnable woman slowly rose from her feet, the blood from the mage covered her hands. In the grey fabric that covered her left forearm, fingertip-sized holes were burnt from the fire spell. Her injury could have been much worse, but he still felt upset.

Leaving their armaments to be retrieved during the clean-up, the pair passed the fallen banner of House Rowe continued up the ridge. The Boar had already **literally** **torn** through the Lord Gwendal's personal guard. The Grey Lion's head was firmly impaled on the beast's lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So major versus minor (regular) crests came up. Personal headcanon (that shouldn't come into play) is Byleth processes a Major Crest of Flames. This is the reason for the crest of Flames being overpowered in the game. For story purposes, a Major Crest will just mean the wielder is able to activate a souped-up version of the minor (regular) crest at will.
> 
> Any confusion should be brought up in the comments. I don't have a beta so there might be a dislocation between my thoughts and my words.
> 
> For some reason, I thought Myrddin led into the Kingdom when I originally did an outline of the story. Give me a break, it has been a while since I played the Golden Deer route. I've figured out what I'm going to do, now I just need to execute my plan.
> 
> [The Sword of Moralta](https://twitter.com/saviana572/status/1216876163777224704/photo/1). I wish I had seen the blade before I wrote this chapter because this screams an executioner sword to me.


	8. Aftermath of Ailell (Pegasus Moon 1185)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even in the middle of a war tender moments can be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where I give up on keeping the number of chapters within this work low to make it more inviting to new readers. I am giving myself permission to write another section of boring strategy dialogue to justify reconciling the outline I had for Lone Moon. 
> 
> This chapter is dialogue-heavy but this is how I see Felix getting comfortable with Byleth's body; scar by scar until the stories and secrets her body contains are his.

A Divine Pulse was used to salvage the ambush House Rowe set for the Knights of Seiros. However, Byleth was certain no matter how many times she could have pulsed, nothing would have salvaged the absolute disaster of a war council that followed. 

Originally Byleth intended to use the Fraldarius reinforcements to siege Fhirdiad. Meanwhile, the Knights of Seiros (whose ranks swelled at Garreg Mach according to the latest report) would have worked their way west. It would have been child’s play to free up territories, manpower, and supplies from Imperial control.

Duke Fraldarius was supposed to be an ally. He had even initially suggested: “We should change course for Fhirdiad and take down those traitors before we embark onto Enbarr.” For a time his grace even stood his ground against His Highness's delusion...until the duke submitted to the mad prince without her consultation. Insulted, Byleth nearly told the nobles to fuck themselves and their war. A damned death march to Enbarr was inevitable now...at least for the Fraldarius troops.

In her wedge tent, under a cloudy Pegasus Moon, Byleth sat crossed legged upon her bedroll. She stripped herself of her upper body armor and ruined grey blouse before she settled int to repair the war council’s damage.

The cup of black tea she brewed to stay awake should have gone cold but remained lukewarm thanks to the heat which enveloped the area. With the ruined blouse Byleth wiped down her forehead and bare arms, mindful of the three burns on the inside of her elbow in the shape of the enemy mage's fingertips. Eventually, the injury from the ignition of the fire spell would need to be treated by medics before she donned a clean shirt and slept. For now, despite the heat, it felt better to let the air hit her skin than have it covered. 

When the flap of her tent was lifted, Byleth instinctively reached for the Sword of the Creator which held down a map of Fódlan. Indigo hair and amber eyes were illuminated by the lantern light hanging from a support pole as Felix’s voiced filled the cramped space. His top outer layers had been discarded, though he still wore his armor over the black fabric of his turtleneck. “Why are you still—”

Despite her breasts being covered and bound down by bandages to fit into her breastplate, Felix’s cheeks flushed pink and his amber eyes bulged momentarily before screwing shut. 

With a flushed frown, he scowled. “There could be more Imperial troops searching for us and you’re...you’re. Put a shirt on.”

Byleth’s voice dripped with disdain. “Great, another Fraldarius sent to make my life difficult.” 

Immediately she regretted her tone. The elder Fraldarius had gotten under her skin but there was no reason to take anything out on his son. Particularly when Felix was her best ally, her right-hand man, and the swordsman she relied on. While Byleth owed it to her former students to stay calm, she owed it to Felix just to stay.

In a scathing tone, he whispered. “You know better than to group me with _him _.” 

“Sorry. I’m not...myself after this evening.“ Rising from her bedroll, Byleth grabbed a blanket and draped it over her shoulders. “I’ve never felt so marginalized in my life. Even when Seteth questioned my ability to be a professor. At least he spoke to me and explained his reasoning clearly. Your father though and the—”

“The crazed nonsense that comes out of his mouth?" Felix let out a loud sigh. "Welcome to my adolescence. You and I are cut from the same cloth, but this time it’s just pitiful. Who knew we are both only useful for brining his beastliness to my old man.” There was a pause before he impatiently asked: “Have you covered yourself yet? I need to speak with you.”

Byleth could have been a pedant and point out that Felix was in fact currently speaking with her. However, she was certain that would only achieve the poor man becoming further flustered, and there were more important matters at hand.

“Yes, I covered myself with a blanket, but you realize healers of both sexes have seen the exact same skin you did.”

A scoff escaped from the still flustered man as he opened his eyes and studied her face. "You look like shit.” Byleth would have felt insulted if Felix hadn’t winced at his own words. “I mean you look exhausted."_I look exhausted? If you only knew what happened today. What I had to do."_And for what? My old man isn’t one to change his mind so the army is marching to Enbarr." Felix briefly reached out towards her but quickly recoiled. They were both aware of the shadows they were casting outside of the cloth tent. "Save your strength for keeping us afloat, not the impossible. I say not the impossible when anything we do goes through Fort Merceus.”

“Fort Merceus? The army won't make it there, the angry villages who see us as conquerors instead of liberators will slow movement and delivery of supplies down significantly." Byleth traced the main road from Garreg Mach to Fort Merceus. "Still, never count me out, Felix.” The former mercenary couldn’t help but smile. “In your father’s haste to bend his knee to the mad prince, he forgot who commands the Knights of Seiros.” Felix nodded as if a wave of understanding had washed over him. “I’m just deciding how best to use what we have to pave the way to Fhirdiad.”

Back onto the bedroll, Byleth sat, hovering over the map of Fódlan again. “I’m planning on breaking my troops off to wage a more unconventional war in the North. If I did my research right a chunk of the Knights of Seiros came from Faerghus.”

Sinking onto the bedroll to her right, Felix continued her thoughts. “Even stripped of conventional tactics, the knights will still have the advantage in their home territory. This is your strategy to siege Fhirdiad without the sieging of Fhirdiad. So why are you worked up to the point of not sleeping?"

As the wax in the lantern melted they discussed the issues that kept her awake. On the latest report from Garreg March stating the Death Knight had been driven from the Sealed Forrest. On Rufus Blaiddyd, and how his negligent regency likely left Fhirdiad without supplies for a long siege. On Cornelia's tyranny and how it could be used to clear the path to Fhirdiad with minimal bloodshed. On sending Ingrid to House Galatea territory to secure passage for the Knights of Seiros, attempt to flip her family, and if possible give the operation a hidden backline. As always her right-hand man was blunt and often sarcastic with his response when he believed she was incorrect. Tonight, however, there was a teasing tone in his biting sarcasm.

“Gilbert and Rodrigue seem convinced a spy is located in Garreg March reporting to Cornelia.” She traced the make-believe path a wyvern would take from the two locations. “How do we know they aren’t reporting straight to Hubert. Worse. How do we know the spy didn’t travel with us?”

Her ally leaned in over the map, brushing their arms against one another’s. It dawned on Byleth; the physical contact they now shared was their most since leaving Garreg Mach. Shifting her weight, Byleth allowed herself to lean her shoulder against Felix, and he did the same in kind.

With his gloved hand, Felix traced a different route. “Hubert is somewhere south. No wyvern is fast enough to fly south then all the way north to Fhirdiad with enough time to move House Rowe’s troops through neutral Galatea territory.” He paused briefly before he slipped into his sarcastic tone. “I’m no Hubert, whom you seem afraid of-”

Grumbling, Byleth interrupted “He did threaten to dispose of me if I proved a threat to Edelgard when he was a student.” She felt Felix's body stiffen at the revelation. Intently his eyes shifted from the map to her left arm. 

“The only time we discussed Ailell was in the Cardinal’s Room. It would make more sense that a scribe rather than a knight overheard our plans, it would also account how they got a message out of the monastery without anyone noticing.” 

“Felix. I know you would call me out if you disagreed with my actions, but do you think this strategy is the best we can do.”

“Whether or not this strategy is the absolute best is irrelevant. Your judgment is more trustworthy than the Boar." Again Felix stared at the injury she received during the ambush and snapped. "Which is why what transpired in Ailell; you risking your life for me, cannot reoccur. You are the only person in this war thinking clearly. I-the war couldn’t continue without you.”

With a sigh, Byleth responded, “And if **I** was shoved down by the mad prince, then had an enemy bearing down on me what would you have done?” 

Felix hung his head and made no reply but Byleth already knew the answer. She had already seen the gut-wrenching answer before she pulsed. If Felix knew her secret, which was covered by the bandages around her breasts, too many things would change. Byleth thought he would demand to know how many times she had risked her life in the past and pry into memories that were still raw. Worse, Byleth was sure Felix would question every wince she made in a battle and change the way he approached combat with the knowledge. 

For now, the Divine Pulse was her burden to bear alone within the company of her Lions.

Avoiding the uncomfortable discussion she tried reasoning with the swordsman “Felix. We're equals.” He gave a nod. “No matter what you will always have my back.” Another nod. “So no matter what I will always have your back. If this is the worst wound I receive from this conflict I'll be surprised." Felix's face wrinkled with displeasure, and he opened his mouth, likely to protest. However, Byleth did not let him interrupt her. "But I promise. I have never put myself in an unnecessarily dangerous position..."_ At least I've always had the Divine Pulse to fall back on when I have_. "And I won't start now."

Though his words were harsh and in a chiding tone, Felix smiled. “Damnable woman.” Over the map of Fódlan, his gloved hand covered her bare hand. “Fine, no matter what we have each other’s back. Byleth—” Even if it was a mere whisper from his lips, hearing her name sent a pleasant shiver down Byleth’s spine. “You had my back in the valley, now it’s my turn.” With those words, he left.

* * *

Felix neither knew nor cared what time of night it was as he briskly walked through the slumbering campsite. In his arms, he carried a clean washcloth, salve, and clean bandages. All he had fetched from the medical tent. For once during this long march, the swordsman had a damn good excuse to be entering the tactician’s tent so late at night without suspicion. His purpose tonight, however, was far more than preventing an infection. He and Byleth would always have each other’s back and always meant away from combat, not only within it. 

Tucking his padded gloves into his swordbelt, Felix lifted the flap of the former mercenary’s tent and entered. To Felix’s relief, for once Byleth was resting, laying on her bedroll. The blanket that had been wrapped like a cape was now tucked under her arms and tightly against her breasts, exposing only her shoulders and arms.

Originally, when Felix entered her tent he had intended to question Byleth on the events surrounding House Rowe's ambush. However, his purpose was discarded when she sat mostly bare before him. He had been caught off-guard by the conflicting sensations. The embarrassment that he had walked in on Byleth undressed. The fear that Byleth would react in anger to his intrusion. The physical arousal which overflowed from his loins into his very being as an unfamiliar sensation of desire, and the guilt of wanting her while she seemed in such a frustrated, vulnerable state. 

As he gazed at what little skin she bore for him, desire again coursed through his veins. Shaking his head guilt again overtook the desire. He had entered Byleth’s tent to assist her. Still, as Felix sat beside the former mercenary his eyes wandered. Felix had expected to see massive scars on the former mercenary's body. Instead, most of her scars were nicks so faded that Felix had only noticed them up close, unlike the divot in her left shoulder.

“I know I’m not-” When Felix looked up at Byleth, she was frowning. He wasn’t sure how she intended to finish the sentence. “You were staring at my scars, I know they’re unsightly.” 

Felix soaked the washcloth with warm water from his waterskin. He knew something needed to be said. “We all have scars.” He had meant to make Byleth smile but her lips remained still. “Your scars are just another portion of who you are.” Still nothing. Felix cursed his tongue for its lack of flattery. “Tell me about them.” 

As gentle as he could, Felix applied the cloth to the burns as she spoke. “The scar on my shoulder you were staring at. I received it in the Adrestian Empire during Brigid’s and Dagda’s failed—damn!” The former mercenary yelped and pulled her arm away. “Can you be more gentle?”

Unamused, Felix firmly took her wrist into his hand to prevent her from pulling away a second time. “Can you avoid injuring yourself?” He continued his work and tried not to be distracted by how soft Byleth's skin felt against his hand. “I remember you mentioning the contract your company had with Brigid. Continue.”

She continued to tell the story through her teeth. “There isn’t much to the story I’m afraid. If my math is right I was maybe sixteen? During a skirmish with House Ochs, an arrow pierced my pauldron. Whether it was the adrenaline or because I actually am a demon, I didn’t notice the wound until after the enemy was routed. A panicked Jeralt corralled me into a medical tent.”

Finished with the cleaning, Felix set down the washcloth and reached out towards the scar on Byleth's shoulder. The swordsman froze. Their previous situation was easy to explain. Just a soldier attending to the army tactician's wounds. But how would he explain touching Byleth (if she even wanted his touch) if anyone saw?

Taking a deep breath, Felix ignored his trepidation. "Can I touch it?" Byleth slightly raised her eyebrow. Felix understood this expression as her curiosity. 

He took her shoulder into his grasp and rubbed the puncture with his thumb. The toned muscle tensed under his touch and caught him off guard. “I assume this was your first scar. Was that story how you became the Ashen Demon?.” Felix felt like an idiot for being caught off-guard. No shit Byleth had impressive muscles in her shoulders. She was a blade wielder and used the same muscles he did.

“It actually wasn’t my first scar, and I have no idea how I was dubbed the Ashen Demon. The first scar...that I can remember receiving was on the back of my head. Hopefully, it's long gone though. My father’s mercenaries instructed me on the blade as soon as I could keep my grip on a wooden sword. Looking back they weren't..." Her frown deepened. "Couldn't be patient. Once, one of the mercenaries tore through my guard and sent me face-first into the ground. When I looked up, he was scowling over me. The wooden sword was bright red and the back of my head felt wet."

A pang of pity shot through Felix’s heart. He and the former mercenary's upbringings were so different, yet somehow they were so alike. "Before everything went to shit, my old man was my first instructor. Later when I had actual instructors he still brought me into his office between meetings to review what I had been taught that day."

With the salve applied to his fingers, Felix gingerly applied a thin layer of the jelly-like substance to the burn. "At least you received your first scar holding a sword. My first scar was stupid. Do you remember Sylvain's brother Miklan?"

Byleth grimaced then nodded at him so Felix continued. “Well, the bastard, pushed Sylvain into a well and left him there to die. Sylvain is lucky his dumbass brother snapped in Fhirdiad. Everyone from the guard recruits to King Lambert himself searched for him. I followed Glenn and we eventually found Sylvain. My brother stayed behind to make a rescue attempt so he sent me to find help."

Pausing, Felix grabbed the bandage and began to dress the burn. "I was so afraid Sylvain was going to die before we could rescue him. I wasn't paying attention to my footing. I stupidly tripped, which skinned my hands and left a deep gash in my knee. By the time I reached the nearest guard, I was a stupid, sniveling mess. I had convinced myself that I was never going to hold a sword again and Sylvain was going to die because I tripped. My hands healed just fine but I still have a faint scar on my right knee. The crest system cost Miklan his status as Heir of Gautier, but his murderous intent cost him the life he still could have had."

"That is not a stupid scar. At the end of the day, you rescued Sylvain from Miklan. If anyone has a stupid scar its the burn on my wrist."

When Byleth smiled, Felix knew why. "The cast-iron skillet incident. I didn't know that burn left a scar. That was not your wisest moment."

It was a story from the first moon of Professor Eisner's tenure at the academy. A time when many students, himself included, regarded her in their minds as the Ashen Demon, not the beloved professor she became. Cast iron skillets were durable enough to be placed over open flames to cook. Yet, somehow a student had caught one on fire. While Felix hadn't been in the dining hall, the black smoke which had billowed out of the building alerted the academy to a fire. The young swordsman had only seen the resolution of the infamous incident. The wide-eyed Ashen Demon sprinted down the stairs behind the dining hall then threw the flaming pan into the fishing pond. Looking back it was the first time Byleth showed him an emotion. Did she panic in that situation? At the time the young swordsman had only been concerned after the professor's morning sparring seminar had been canceled. Regrettably to older Felix, younger Felix learned of the professor's burn (from her foolish attempt to pick up the skillet) not from asking but from gossip in the classroom.

Looking down at the now wrapped burn, Felix frowned. Byleth had been taken care of and who knew what time of night it was anymore. On one hand, Felix wanted nothing more than to blow out the candle and talk for as long as they had stories to trade. Hells on her right bicep there was a long, thin scar from an obvious slash of a knife. Considering the former mercenary wore rerebraces that kind of wound should have been prevented. Something must have gone wrong.

Byleth voice dripped with reluctance “We probably both need to sleep. I have to explain my actions and march north tomorrow. At least I can look forward to a hot bath, cold ale, and a fresh loaf of bread. While you—”

“Will be marching north alongside you,” Felix confirmed. He stood up blew out the lantern. “Having your back no matter what also means having your back no matter where.”

In the black of the night, Felix heard the rustling of fabric. They had verbally said their goodnights in his old man's tent. Then separately stormed off to their tents to stew on the results of the evening. His heart skipped a beat when he felt Byleth's frame against his. One chaste kiss and Felix settled his thumb back over the scar on her shoulder. A second chaste kiss and he traced the mysterious scar on her bicep. A third kiss was not against Byleth's lips but her neck, eliciting a gasp from her mouth which traveled down his spine. A fourth kiss was pressed against her the scar on her shoulder.

And then Felix lost track as his lips and teeth sunk into her flesh.

Salt was all Felix could taste. Dirt, death, and their combined sweat all he could smell.

Somehow those unpleasantries were all too easy to ignore. The feeling of her flesh between his lips was intoxicating.

A thumb under his chin pried Felix away from his stupor. He found himself gasping for air and his heart racing.

"If you keep that up...we're not sleeping." Byleth sounded just as out of breath as he was. 

Felix took a deep breath. Tomorrow would prove to be a challenge. They would both need strength to see their plan through.

A kiss was placed on Byleth's shoulder before Felix moved back to her lips. "I'll have your back tomorrow. Good luck" His kiss against her lips was just a peck. When Byleth finally smiled against his lips, Felix didn't resist returning a smile of his own. 

The swordsman didn't believe in luck. Still, Felix decided he would be happy to provide Byleth with a good luck peck as long as she needed them. Felix _hoped_ Byleth would never stop needing them. "Goodnight Byleth."

"Goodnight Felix." Byleth's lips pressed against his this time.

As Felix tied Byleh's tent flap closed, Ailell's night air felt as cold as Faerghus's winter. 

When dawn broke on the twenty-third of the Pegasus Moon, Byleth and Felix put their plan in motion. The next day, the two groups went their separate ways. The former prince, Gustave and the Fraldarius troops led by the duke began their death march south to Enbarr. Meanwhile, the Knights of Seiros made their way north through the Valley of Torment into what had once been the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was mildly exhausting to write. Don't worry about canon compliance. We have all month and flyers to make it back to the Bridge of Myrddin.
> 
> So confession time. I thought the Bridge of Myrddin crossed into Faerghus. Well, the idea of marching an entire army (plus knights) all the way back south didn't sit right with me when I made my outline. That was why I left most of the Blue Lions at Garreg Mach. That way there were trustworthy troops within reach of Gronder Field. There was even going to be a whole scene of Byleth pleading with Dimitri to trust Sylvain as a tactician and commander. That is 100% scrapped which is why I'm telling you this.


	9. The Faerghus Dukedom (Lone Moon 1185)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best part of this chapter is I wasn't expecting the Faerghus Dukedom to be in Galatea territory when I originally planned this out. Then one little line from Ingrid transformed this chapter into what you see now.

When the Knights of Seiros escaped the volcanic wasteland of Ailell, Byleth had expected Faerghus’s infamous snow to blanket the landscape. While snow often dusted the ground when the sun rose it melted with the afternoon sun, leading to muddy roads which caused the brigade to halt whenever a supply carrying wagon became stuck.

Passing yet another burnt down farmstead, Byleth closed her eyes and shook her head. The sight of destroyed property and scorched fields had become more common the further northwest the Knights of Seiros traveled. 

Byleth kept her voice low to avoid the ears of the soldiers around her. “I think I understand why House Galatea is attempting to maintain their neutrality.” She motioned towards the desolate field. “This tactic is nothing more than House Rowe suppressing dissenters. We can use this to our advantage.”

Inwardly Byleth winced at her observation. The former professor could nearly hear the concerned words of her former pupils asking if she felt well. It wasn't that the unknown farmer's loss didn't elicit a degree of pity from the former mercenary but this situation was common in her previous line of work. 

It had become customary (Byleth wasn’t sure when) for Felix to ride beside her during these monotonous hours of travel. As usual, he seemed to not notice or at least not judge her opinion.

“The problem is Lord Gwendal was one of those knights obsessed with chivalry. I can't see him razing defenseless farms. His honor would never allow it.” When Byleth glanced over at the swordsman his eyes were wide. “Have we stumbled onto an invasion on Galatea territory?”

If the Adrestian Empire had invaded this far east both the march to Enbarr and her progress in Faerghus would be compromised. Complicating matters was House Galatea’s widely known financial troubles. Byleth could vividly remember Ingrid’s father, Count Galatea, attempting to marry his daughter off to replenish his coffers. Worse, there was a possibility that the Dukedom of Fraldarius and its supplies were in danger of being cut off.

Felix's thought processes appeared similar. “My old man must have seen this wreckage as he traveled south. Yet he still left the house in my uncle’s hands to follow the Boar. What is the old man thinking? I always knew my father was mad, but this time he’s gone too far.”

“Goddess, is your uncle like Rufus?” Byleth braced herself to allow Felix to leave her side if he felt his territory was in danger.

“No, my uncle is a reliable man. But still. Only a fool would abandon his own territory when the enemy is closing in.”

An hour later the Faerghus campaign received its first pleasant development; a river. A source of fresh water and a promise of civilization when followed. That day camp was set up earlier than usual. The weather was far too cold to fully bathe without risk but there were long-neglected clothing that needed to be laundered. More importantly, this was the first opportunity to replenish the supply of potable water since entering Ailell.

After the numerous casks had been filled to the brim Byleth sat on the grassy riverbank, removed the armor which covered her arms, and rolled the sleeves of her blouse over her elbows. The former mercenary hummed as she worked through her soiled clothing and remembered why she primarily wore darker articles; mud and blood were difficult to remove from fabric if left alone. At least she had company. Every soldier gathered at the river performed the same task, except the indigo haired swordsman lying on his back nearby. With his head resting on one of his saddlebags and his eyes closed, Felix appeared to be asleep. However, Byleth knew better.

Lathering soap into her mud-splattered, wool cloak Byleth continued to hum an old tavern song from the past. When water splashed against the bandages that covered her inner elbow, Byleth stopped humming and grumbled. Changing the dressing was a pain. It was fortunate that Felix was willing (more insistent) to care for her injury. If Byleth was being honest his touch was most welcome. 

From the corner of her eye, she watched as the swordsman sat up and reached for his blade with a look of confusion across his face. Felix’s eyes darted around the area, then met hers with his usual scowl. Crossing his arms, Felix continued to glare at her as if he was expecting something.

After more silent starting Felix’s eyes darted away as he sternly asked: “The song you were humming. What was it?” 

Byleth was surprised the swordsman had been listening. “Just a tavern song from Morfis.” Felix still stared at her waiting for something. Byleth sighed. “Don’t ask me for the verses. I can only remember the chorus and the song’s story.” A beat passed. “Don’t you have laundry?”

Narrowing his eyes the swordsman demanded. “If you’re not going to hum, at least tell me the song’s story.”

It finally dawned on Byleth for why Felix had been expectantly staring at her; he had enjoyed her humming. Though she did not consider herself an adequate storyteller, she could not deny Felix.

“A young couple is due to be married. On the morning of the wedding, the groom, a solider is pressed into service. After a time the solider doesn’t return. Taking matters into her own hands the bride, a mage disguises herself as a man and searches for the solider.” Smiling, she continued. “My favorite part is next. The mage fights alongside her battalion even after her true gender is revealed. Her captain, impressed with her skill, points her towards the solider but warns her that the man has another woman. When the mage finally finds the solider in the arms of his new bride the mage blasts them both.” 

Though his face had turned a shade paler than normal, Felix's voice remained steady. "There aren't many stories let alone songs with strong female characters at least in Fódlan. That _is_ the reason you enjoy the song...right?"

"Of course." Byleth lowered her voice. "Felix, you realize if you wanted me to hum while you rested...you could have asked."

The swordsman's face turned tomato red. Still, when Byleth resumed her humming as she finished her laundry, Felix seemed to visibly relax.

* * *

Two days later traces of civilization, plumes of smoke, appeared in the distance. Mile by mile, however, Byleth’s initial relief faded as those same grey plumes turned black. Without delay, the former mercenary and the swordsman broke off with the faster calvary to investigate. Her fear was confirmed when a town broke the horizon. Blue banners sharply contrasted against the orange flames engulfing the structures within the raised walls. 

Through the already raised portcullis lancers lowered their weapons and charged through. The mounted ambush while unintentional proved effective. By the time the Ashen Demon and the swordsman passed through the gates, raiders which had not been skewered or trampled had already been shattered. Nearing one of the blue banners which had been dropped in the chaos, her gut twisted. The banner which had flown over the carnage was the same that had flown outside of the Blue Lion classroom...a banner of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. 

Amidst the efforts to extinguish the flames, the white standard of the Knights of Seiros entered the town. The townspeople reached out to greet them, not simply as heroes but as saviors. Avoiding the spectacle the Ashen Demon pulled the cloak down over her eyes and plodded down the cobbled streets alongside the swordsman.

As the Ashen Demon attempted to take stock of the damage more hands reached out as the cheers turned to cries. Healers went about their work, but the hands of the wounded and dying still bloodied her cloak as they shrieked and groaned for assistance. Passing by the husk of a church and its lynched clergy, wailing hands reached out towards the sky imploring the goddess for answers. Under the cloak, her eyes widened when a thick trail of grain guided the Ashen Demon towards the granary and storehouses. Hands reached out collecting the dirt-covered meat, crushed fruit, and torn bags of flour.

The din quieted down as the Ashen Demon climbed up a watchtower’s stairway. Slumping against the battlement, a familiar gloved hand reached out and rested against her thigh. Neither the swordsman nor herself had drawn their blades today but his clothes were just as bloodied as her own. 

An eternity seemed to pass before the swordsman bluntly broke the silence “So much for a hot bath, a cold ale, and a fresh loaf of bread. This situation is fucked.” When the former mercenary nearly laughed at his comment, she wondered what it said about her mental state. "Byleth?"

“I’m listening.” Reassuringly she covered his gloved hand with her gauntlet. “This is just a great deal to take in. Edelgard continues to ally herself with...ruthless individuals.”

Cornelia and her 'Dukedom of Faerghus' were just a long line of unsavory individuals who Elelgard placed trust in. Byleth couldn’t keep her mind from wandering to her days at the academy and the wicked alliances Edelgard made as ‘Flame Emperor’. The Death Knight who kidnapped defenseless students. Solon who pushed Dimitri into madness with his experiment at Remire Village and his attempt to banish her using Kronya as a human sacrifice. Kronya. Her father’s murder still felt raw at times. Even now Byleth couldn't decide if Edelgard's symphony at the funeral had been an act. Was the Adrestian Empress being deceived by her allies or did she not care.

Again Felix called her name. It was only then Byleth realized how tight she had clutched her hands in anger. 

Loosening her hand, Byleth stood and peered down at the town below. “We should send a messenger to funnel reinforcements north and try to stabilize things here. Hopefully, by the time things are prepared your father will have made progress with His Highness. I knew the loyalists had been pushed back but...how did things get this dire?”

“Even before Cornelia usurped the noble houses were fractured. While those placed in command proved self-important yet incompetent." Nearly under his breath, Felix mumbled. "I have the scars to prove it.”

“That you still haven't shown me—”

Felix crossed his arms, his voice was laced with anger. “Unlike you, my scars aren't stories....just proof of the terrible leadership that placed us in this position. I only survived the war because of my skill."

“Including my leadership at Conand Tower? How I failed you when Miklan transformed and swiped at you with his claw.” In the chaos, it wasn't obvious a student had been injured. However, just before a pulse was unleashed, Mercedes announced Felix had been stabilized. “That was your first combat scar and it was my fault...right?" Technically all of the scars Felix endured because of her five-year absence were her fault. 

His tone didn't soften as Felix walked away towards the stairwell. "I'd be an idiot to blame you. No one could have predicted Miklan turning into a demonic beast." He stopped and looked back at her. "Are you coming with me Byleth? I'm only showing you my scars to get you off my....to make you happy."

Down to the stairwell, she followed the flushed swordsman until he sat and began to pull off his numerous layers. When Felix's black turtleneck was finally removed the first thing Byleth noticed was that his chest was as flushed as his frowning face. 

Byleth was used to Felix acting prickly, but often it was difficult to gauge the reason behind his attitude. There was no doubt in her mind that Felix had rarely gone shirtless around women. He had barely done so, even when training in the summer moons as a student. If Felix felt bashful bearing skin that was one thing. If this attitude was because she had forced him...it was another. 

Feeling guilty, Byleth offered. "Felix if you're uncomfortable—" 

He looked directly up at the ceiling then huffed. "I don't have stories for you Byleth. Just tell me when I can get dressed."

Discouraged, Byleth quickly glanced over Felix's body. Compared to the scars she possessed, his were fewer in number but more grisly. The familiar claw marks from Milklan drug across Felix's left ribs past his side. Adjacent to it a darker variety of magic marked...marked not burned...his right ribs off-grey. An axe had bitten into his right collarbone while on that same side a thin scar from a knife stretched from his right shoulder blade, nearly to his front. Surprisingly, besides the long scar from the knife, his pale back was free from wear and tear.

Fewer nicks dotted his arms than hers but it was his sword-arm that held her attention. While the scar in his forearm was caused by an ordinary blade it had healed in a jagged fashion. It was a telltale sign of shoddy medical attention. The same poor attention had been paid to a puncture scar on his tricep. Strange enough the puncture was too small for either a dagger or an arrow.

“What happened to your arm?" The swordsman opened his mouth to reply but stopped. She waited but grew frustrated. "Fine. I get it, you don't have stories. You can get dressed—"

"I ran from a battle Byleth." He hissed through his teeth and finally look at her. "You were nowhere to be found so I ran from Garreg March when the empire was reinforced. I ran and had to sew up a wound from some stupid blade myself. Some might call me a dishonorable coward or say I should have obeyed the orders you gave me but I was not dying that day."

Byleth sat next to the swordsman and wrapped her arm around his back. "And the puncture?"

"One evening while I fled it began to rain. I foolishly took shelter in a barn to avoid sleeping in the open. I was starving, alone, and not thinking straight. The next morning I drew my blade on a farmer. Whether he was friend or foe I never learned. For all I know he was just going about his daily chores, but I was...afraid. He pierced me with a pitchfork so I gutted him. I gutted him then raided his house. Stuffed my face full of his breakfast, and dressed my wound with cloth from the dead man's wardrobe." The swordsman paused and leaned forward. "I'm not the Boar. I took no pleasure in killing him. I only did so to survive..."

As Felix drifted into silence Byleth gently ran her uncovered fingers over his spine. "No one is immune to unsavory deeds when their survival in on the line. Not even myself." She picked up his black turtleneck and was in awe of the warmth. "Go ahead and get dressed."

Byleth nearly forgot the story she meant to tell when Felix began to dress. Then he gave her an expectant stare. 

"If a mercenary does enough work in Morfis, someone is bound to place a contract on their head at some point. Unfortunately, the company only learned we had...I had overstayed our welcome after a heavy night of drinking. While I slept, some bastard picked the lock on my room. The scar on my bicep is when he intentionally tried to sever the tendons so I couldn't wield a blade. He failed but still knocked me out. Pain through my back brought to my senses. I still have scars on my back from being bound and dragged by a horse."

With one arm through the sleeve of his white doublet, Felix asked. "And you're still alive because..."

"My attacker had to untie me from the horse and we got into a tussle. When I managed to get his neck between the bindings he used on my wrists, he begged for his life. Claimed he needed the money for his family and pleaded to let him live. I refused to trust his word...strangled him to ensure my survival and used his horse for years. The life of a mercenary...the life of a solider is hellish." When Felix began to place his armor over his surcoat, Byleth shooed his hands away and tightened his straps down herself. "We can only try to survive it."

Felix scoffed. "Like there is a doubt we'll survive it."

One last hand reached out towards Byleth as Felix took her hand into his own. Down the stairs, the pair slowly ambled, uneager to rejoin reality and the arduous tasks ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had to write a piece on Byleth's mercenary years I think it would take place mostly in Morfis which would help explain Byleth's cluelessness about Fódlan.
> 
> Why Morfis? Well, the game describes the country as a metropolis of magic and its nicknamed "The City of Illusion". With that in mind I can't help but compare Morfis to Ravnica.


	10. Under Pressure (Lone Moon 1185)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war rolls along. Byleth bears her heart to Felix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Heavy use of in-game dialogue in this chapter. Hopefully, I'm able to make the scenes my own while keeping them canon-compliant, However, you guys have to trust me when I say I try to only use plot-relevant stuff.

When Felix and Byleth had initially landed at the Fraldarius campsite, the pair had been warmly greeted by the Blue Lions formerly stationed at Garreg Mach. Less than twenty-four hours later, Felix stood on the edge of his father's teal and white command tent. From the moment the war council began Byleth had advocated intervention in Faerghus against a cacophony of seated voices. 

Waving a missive with a yellow seal, Gustave insisted. “House Riegan is distracting House Gloucester’s forces. We must capture the Great Bridge of Myrddin or risk losing their cooperation in the future.”

Nervously Felix shifted his weight when Byleth gave no rebuttal. He watched as the tactician began to riffle through the papers in front of her. Although Byleth's face was set in stone, the slow tap of her quill against the table was a mannerism Felix recognized. She was searching for a way to salvage the situation.

The deadbeat grabbed a set of colored blocks to begin planning the upcoming battle. "Let us focus on the information the scouts returned with. As expected, there are quite a few Imperial soldiers stationed there."

With a smug grin on his face, the Boar stood from his chair and began to make his way toward the exit. "I see. So, the enemy has prepared for our arrival. It matters not. I will kill them all, whether they are one or one hundred."

“That is unnecessary.” Byleth interjected. “According to the report, the bridge's defense is being supported partially by House Aegir and led by its heir. If Ferdinand can be reasoned with, he and perhaps his troops are more useful to us alive than dead."

Felix began to recall something Byleth had said about the heir but his thoughts were interrupted.

The Boar slammed his fist onto the table next to Byleth, toppling over several inkwells. He hissed against her ear. "If you stand in my way. If you prevent me from punishing those who assist that woman. I will strike you down."

Gritting his teeth, Felix forced his feet to stay planted. If he and the Boar got into a fight the truth of the Boar's condition would spread. Still, questions rushed through his mind. How would the two Crests of Fraldarius in the tent react if he attempted to strike down the Boar? Would his old man strike him down? Even if Byleth was in danger?"

Byleth stared straight ahead as the beast addressed her further. "What would you do, if you saw the people who stole everything from you? If you saw them right before your eyes, living carefree lives and feeling no guilt. Would you feel nothing? Do nothing?” No words came from the tactician. "Five years ago. Did you not deem the woman who killed Jeralt to be unforgivable?" The quill in Byleth's hand dropped onto the table and her stony expression fell to an obvious frown. "I am most certain that you did. You couldn’t let her get away from her crime, so you took up your sword in pursuit."

It was undeniable. That day in the Sealed Forest, the Ashen Demon had lashed out with a white-hot, bitter rage. That rage, her lone moment of emotion in the middle of a battle, had stemmed from Byleth's profound grief over her father's murder. The very murder the Boar had comforted their former professor through.

The Boar fingers latched onto Byleth's chin and lifted her face to meet his lone eye. “Precisely my point, We’re the same, you and I.” 

Instinctively the swordsman gripped his blade and darted towards Byleth. The beast's threats had been as empty as Felix's own. However, when the beast had touched Byleth, a line had been crossed. Felix stopped just short of stepping between the two and the beast released his hold

Options to reassure Byleth were paltry. Felix hoped his presence and support were enough. "We’re wasting our time. There’s nothing to be gained from exchanging words with a Boar that has lost its mind.” Gustave attempted to interrupt him but Felix continued. "This is war. Every last one of us has lost someone we care for. But we all choose to suppress our anger and grief and go right on living. Do you know why?"

It was Byleth, not the Boar who answered his question in a small voice. "Because it's pointless. All that matters is our survival."

Felix wondered if Gustave and his father heard the same obvious pain in Byleth's voice that he had. If they had, they did not seem to care. The former mercenary was the strongest woman, the strongest person Felix knew. Yet the Boar seemed to know exactly what to say...exactly what to do...to shatter her strength...to make her look nothing more than prey. 

Gripping his blade, Felix steeled himself to strike if necessary. "That’s right. All the Boar is accomplishing is stacking up more corpses."

That was the difference between the Ashen Demon's and the Boar's rage. Even during her rage, their professor's tactics had kept the Blue Lions safe from harm. Meanwhile, the Boar would sacrifice any of them to come even a step closer to killing Edelgard. The beast was purposely twisting the events that day against Byleth. 

"Tell me Felix...if the dead are beyond reach, is it also not pointless to mourn or even bury those who are lost?" 

When the Crest of Fraldarius burned his hand, Felix found the answer to how his crest would react if he attempted to strike down the beast.

Forcing a laugh, Felix tried to mask his discomfort. "Ha. That mind of yours. I’m done here. Remember...Professor.” The old title felt foreign in his mouth. "It’s not compassion for this fool that has brought us this far. There are those of us who despise the Empire, and those who side with the church. If we keep running down this path, it’s only a matter of time before the ground beneath us collapses." 

His old man sounded disappointed. "That's enough Felix."

It made sense that his father had sided with the beast. His father loved the Boar Prince as a son far more than himself. His father always wanted him to be like Glenn. Maybe sacrificing himself was the only way his father would ever deem him worthy of his love. Felix banished the thought from his mind.

"You're a damn fool, old man." As Felix left the tent the burning in his hand slowly subsided.

* * *

The briefing where Duke Fraldarius had presented their strategy to his officers had been nearly as unpleasant as the war council before it. Complaints against trusting Duke von Riegan had been constant, citing his silver tongue and scheming nature. Byleth had argued in Claude's favor, citing how he had little to gain from betraying them at this time. Her old pupil...her oldest friend had ambitions but he also had a good heart. As briefing concluded, Byleth sank into her chair and watched the last of the officers exit the tent. Now it was just herself, Duke Fraldarius, and the glow of the slowly melting candles.

"Your Grace," She began to broach the subject. "While I conceded that cooperation with House Riegan is necessary for the time being, my opinion on the march to Enbarr stands. We need to stand up to His Highness before 'the ground beneath us collapses' as your son eloquently put it." 

Duke Fraldarius gazed into the air and wistfully began. "Lambert and I studied at the Officers Academy together. We used to sneak out of lectures almost every day. He was my liege, my brother, and my friend. Every time I look at His Highness I keep recalling him and my elder son. Glenn was quite gifted. In fact, he was appointed a knight at the age of fifteen. I still vividly remember the day he was granted a sword from His Majesty."

Byleth was unsure what direction the conversation was going. "Yes, I heard much about Glenn when I taught at Garreg Mach though he is..." She didn't dare finish her sentence. 

“Dead." The man's eyes refocused. "He and Lambert were both killed nine years ago in Duscar. All that returned of my son that day were his sword and his armor." He began to twist a ring on his pinkie. "No matter how much you grieve. No matter how much you beg that you be taken instead. The dead will never return. No magic in the world can bring them back. That’s why their memory clings to the living like a curse. The more they were loved, the tighter their hold, and the more suffering they cause." 

His words applied to many topics tonight. Her rage against Kronya because of her father's murder. The former prince and his hellbent quest for vengeance for the dead. The grief a father felt for losing his eldest son. The grief that split Felix and his father apart.

Their relationship was not her place to meddle. All she could do is be there for Felix and hope that time would eventually heal the scars between himself and his father. If she nudged Felix to reconcile he was more likely to push her away. That alone, more than any words the ill prince had ever used against her, would destroy Byleth.

That small act would sap her willpower, smash her resolve, and take away her reason to remain in Fódlan.

Felix meant _everything _to her...yet they were _nothing _to one another.

"I did my best to mold His Highness into the man His Majesty would want him to be. I owed the Kingdom...I owed the memory of Lambert that much at least." _At the cost of your relationship with Felix._ "I fear I am not a strong enough man to scold His Highness for his foolishness."

_Scold? I scolded students who spoke with each other during my lectures. I scolded Dimitri and Felix for working themselves too hard. Then again I should have confronted the former prince about this long ago. The consequences always seemed too great._

Guiltily Byleth sighed. Maybe her failure was being too patient with the former prince. "I know how you feel but we must. His attitude **will** get people killed one day if we fail."

"Right you are...as adults, it is our responsibility to scold him and help him find his way again. I come off as so self-important, but really...I’m just a failure of a man. Professor...I entrust the young prince, and the future of Faerghus, to you." 

The duke continued to speak but numbness lurched through Byleth, blocking his words. The future of Faerghus had already been placed squarely on her shoulders. But Duke Fraldarius had just confirmed that the burden was hers...and hers alone.

* * *

In the obscurity of her tent, Byleth loosened the straps on her armor and hurled each piece to the ground. She needed an outlet to relieve stress. Alcohol was out of the question with a battle approaching. Sparring with her partner was a physical option. Knowing Felix's temperament, it was her **only** physical option. With her relic on her hip and a lantern in hand, Byleth made her way past several campfires towards the forest at the edge of the camp. 

When the glow of the campsite had dimmed she blew out the lantern and set it down. With a fond smile, Byleth recalled a story that Claude told her about the Sword of the Creator; how it could cut a mountain in half. Surely if that tale was even half true, a few accidental trees would cause no damage to it. As the forest was eerily bathed in red, Byleth surged forward with her entire body and cracked her relic against imaginary foes. Again and again, Byleth performed the motion hoping to find some level of catharsis. Until he overt rustling of leaves from the direction of camp interrupted her. 

Wrapped in the warm glow of a lantern, Felix stepped into view. If not for Felix's temperament Byleth might have pushed him against a tree. She might have kissed him until they were both breathless. She might have begged for his touch and given him his own release in return. But this was Felix. The man had many qualities which she loved. However the lone quality she loathed; his abrasive nature when things were not at his own pace was exhausting.

Sheathing her relic, Byleth leaned against a tree and wondered what Felix had in store for her.

There was no trace of softness in the tone he used. "Byleth, I need an explanation." She felt genuinely confused and waited for clarification. "You slipped up on my birthday. Mentioned Ferdinand and Lorenz being marched by the Empire before we had any information on them. You brushed the topic off." 

Tonight reminded Byleth of an old saying: "When it rains, it pours." After the downpour of stress that the day had brought, it made too much sense that her nightcap was additional stress instead of alcohol. 

Felix took a single step closer to her as his voice began to grow agitated. "Then today after I stormed out of the war council, I read the scouting report. Before House Riegan's distraction, they were stationed together. Alone I could have written that off as a coincidence. But Byleth, I know you had prior knowledge of House Rowe's ambush. Then afterward there was all that talk of a-"

His implication struck her like an arrow to the chest. Slowly she crumpled to the ground. “You're accusing me of being the spy within our ranks? I thought we knew each other better. " 

Felix lept backward seemingly dodging her words. "Never! I would never! You would never betray us.” His voice began to shake. “You would never betray me. Just please Byleth. Please tell me how you knew."

"When I went to the hamlet all those moons ago, I ran into Hilda Goneril. Claude had sent her to investigate rumors of my appearance. He was the one who gave us the intelligence on the supplies we **desperately** needed.”

Byleth realized she needed to tell Felix the entire truth. “He was also my first friend...so I wrote back to him to let him know I was alive. His response included how his Golden Deer were faring. Including Lorenz and his last known location. Before you even accuse me. I never mentioned Dimitri's illness or Ailell."

An exasperated sigh left Felix's lips. "So you allowed the head of the Alliance to use you. To use your position in our army for his own schemes."

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Byleth wrapped her arms around them and admitted. "When you phrase it like that I sound like a traitor." She paused to allow Felix to rebuff her comment. His silence was excruciating. "Yes, Claude used me and I used him. Hells, we're using each other currently for this bridge attack. I'll tell you the same thing I told the officers; even if Claude wanted to, he couldn't make a move against us. He needs us to be an enemy of the Empire just as much as we need him to be an enemy of the Empire."

Gazing up into his amber eyes, Byleth longed to see tenderness. She needed to know that Felix still had her back.

His normally fiery eyes were cold as his interrogation continued. "And the Ambush in the Valley of Torment? You lied about seeing movement in the rocks but gave orders to target the area anyway. Don't try to deny that."

Byleth buried her eyes into her knees. Never before had she ever had an urge to reverse time outside of the battlefield. Tonight Byleth was actively resisting the temptation...she had been trapped. 

A tightness formed in her throat and around her wrists. “I don’t know where to begin. There is so much I don’t know myself.” Gingerly Byleth began to unbutton her blouse. Each unfastened piece of brass weighed heavier than the last.

"What in the hell are you-" Felix snapped, his eyes narrowing.

“Don’t make this harder on me.” Byleth swallowed and placed trust in her swordsman. Hopefully, he placed just as much trust in her. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be alive.” Vaguely she heard Felix began to stammer but his questions fell on deaf ears. “When we first came to Gareg Mach, papa warned me to beware of Rhea. While he was alive, my father never explained why that was. It wasn’t until after… I found a hidden journal he kept. I wish it was still in my possession now but Claude had it last.” 

At last, the final button on her blouse came undone. Byleth mustered courage and reached out towards Felix. Though his face was twisted with confusion her swordsman approached. When they finally sat beside one another, she tugged at the fingertips of his gloves. 

Finally felt a degree of reassurance was felt by Byleth when Felix complied and removed his gloves. “So the Blade Breaker hid the reason he mistrusted Rhea from you. What does this have to do with your knowledge of the ambush Byleth?”

“I can. I mean Rhea...she. I have this scar from. When I was born.” The words refused to form. “It might be easier to show you first.” 

In the cold night air Byleth slowly unwrapped the bandages that bound her chest. The revealed scar on her sternum was slightly smaller than her thumb and heavily faded. If she was being honest, Byleth wasn’t sure if Felix would be able to see it in the low light. 

The scar was neither Byleth’s largest nor had the grizzliest tale associated with it. It was not even the final one Felix had no knowledge of. It was, however, the scar that terrified Byleth the most. Gently Byleth guided his warm hand to the heart that had never beaten. 

Again she had to resist the temptation to stop time and enjoy this lone moment of tranquility in a troubling day. But the moment passed Byleth by.

In the light of the lantern, her swordman’s face paled and eyes widened. Frantically Felix grasped at her wrists then pressed his fingers just below the angle of her jaw. Only then did her swordsman relax.

“Papa’s journal was full of happy, romantic stories. Then I was born and suddenly his entries became vague on the details. All I know for a fact is that Rhea told papa that my mother died giving birth to me and that a few days later a doctor found that I had a pulse but no heartbeat." A hot tear slid slowly slid down her cheek. “But I’m a demon...without a heartbeat...who killed my mother. That scar is proof.” 

Felix’s strong arm wrapped around her back. Against her ear, his tone was soothing. “That is nonsense. You might not have a heartbeat but you're no demon." She could feel him smile against her hair. "You feel emotions just the same as I do. Anyone who believes otherwise isn't worth your time. You're human. I know it.” Again Felix placed his thumb over her heart, tracing the small scar. 

“A human can’t pause and reverse the flow of time.” Byleth felt his smile fall from the new revelation. "Felix, you asked what happened in the Valley of Torment. The ambush set by House Rowe’s succeeded. Archers caught us off-guard and…” Another tear formed as Felix’s dying moments replayed. Byleth gritted her teeth. “Important lives were lost so I—”

Death was ever-present throughout the former mercenary’s life. Dealing with it had been easier when the fallen were nothing more than a rotating assortment of bodies with weapons. Loss of life had only become...painful when the fallen began to have names, stories, and ambitions in which Byleth shared.

“If it hurts too much, stop. I think I understand.” Felix nodded, nuzzling into her hair. “The Boar died during the Rite of Rebirth. You reversed time then went after the Death Knight yourself to save his hide.” Slowly Byleth nodded and wondered how Felix knew. “Byleth, none of that changes the fact that you are a living, breathing, feeling human. A damnable human...who still drives me nuts with her self-sacrificing tendencies.”

A small laugh shook Byleth from head to toe. When her eyes began to water, they were her first tears not shed in sorrow. 

Wiping her eyes, Byleth began to settle herself down. Felix had accepted the worst of her burdens without doubt or complaint. The Divine Pulse still had burdens attached to it but the worst of it, the truth, was behind them. 

The natural warmth of her swordsman mixed with the cool, crisp night air. At that moment...Byleth found peace.

She took Felix’s hand into her own and looked into his fiery amber eyes. “You’re...good to me Felix. I’m fortunate to have you by my side.” She looked up at the starry sky and with her thumb, rubbed the outside of his hand gently. “How you knew about Dimitri during the rite. Why you grasped your hand before the ambush. I couldn’t begin to guess.” “I hope you can tell me." Byleth felt Felix shift his weight. "I...I’ve never felt so at peace as when I’m with you.” She placed one more pound of trust in her swordsman. “That is what love is supposed to feel like...right? This is love that I feel for you?”

Byleth felt her stomach knot. Each muscle in Felix’s body that had been pressed against hers...tensed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Felix feel the same way? Will he tell Byleth his family's age old secret?
> 
> I'm always thankful to all of my readers. Your constant support keeps me trucking along this sprawling story!


	11. The Rose-Colored River (Lone Moon 1185)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New allies are made as good things and the year come to an end.

A much younger Felix squirmed on the wooden bench as a fat tear rolled down his cheek. His finger still stung from where the doctor’s needle had pricked his finger earlier. Ever since the man had announced that Felix possessed a ‘Major Crest of Fraldarius’ the boy’s relatives, gathered in his father’s office, had not stopped whispering.

With his bandaged finger, Felix traced the words on the page. He knew the story well, it was one that his father often read to Glenn and himself at night.

A tear splashed onto the page as he read aloud for his family. "In a flash, Kyphon's sword flew from its scabbard. The knight parried the…” At five the younger Felix was still learning how to read. “Uh-sa-sn...Assassin's blade mere inches from the spine of his king. Kyphon's blade hummed like the wind, slashing the enemy's throat. In mere moments, their forces lay va..vang.”

In frustration, another tear began to form but it was quickly wiped away by Glenn. “That is a tough word Fe.” The boy looked over into his brother's kind, cerulean eyes. “What sound do the letters q and u make together? You can do it. You'll never beat me if you don't try."

Felix took a deep breath and sounded the syllables out. “Kw-uh-sht...vanquished? That means dead right?” Glenn nodded and encouraged Felix to continue reading. “Deh-suh-mei-tuhd...decimated. In mere moments, their forces lay vanquished—decimated by his mighty blows.” A round of applause echoed through the room.

With a wide smile, his father patted Felix's head. "Very well done! Hughes, did you hear Felix read that passage?" His father spoke to Felix's uncle and namesake, Hughes Percival Fraldarius. "My boy is a quick study with strong blood. Between our three sons, the duchy is in fine hands."

His father lifted his wine glass, proposed a toast to the Dukedom of Fraldarius and its bloodline, then dismissed the crowd. Only Felix, Glenn, the boys' father, and their uncle remained. The faces of both older men became serious.

Uncle Hughes knelt down, leveling their eyes together. "Felix, Kyphon’s tale is the history of our family. Your crest has manifested. You must now grow strong and accept the true lesson of Kyphon’s tale; the duty of House Fraldarius. Ever since Loog became king, our family has faithfully protected and served House Blaiddyd. When your father and I are eventually gone, that protection will fall to you, Garrett, and Glenn."

Next to Felix, his father sat and continued. “That protection is a secret kept even from the royal family itself. Before we explain further, you need to make a promise Felix. You must swear to never tell anyone what we tell you within this room. That includes His Highness and even His Majesty.”

The boy’s eyes widen with horror. “Father, you told Glenn and me not to lie. Am I supposed to lie to mother too?”

“Your mother is a Fraldarius by marriage. She already knows.” Felix breathed a sigh of relief. “If the wrong people discovered our duty, they would try to hurt all of us. Your mother included.” Gently Felix’s father patted his head. “That is why you must swear your silence on all of House Fraldarius; those living, those dead, and those yet to come. You must promise Glenn, Uncle Hughes, your mother and I that you will protect all of us with your silence.”

* * *

When Felix refocused, Byleth was still starring up at the night sky. “I hope you can tell me.” 

A pang of guilt shot through the swordman. All those years ago his younger self had sworn on his entire house to safeguard the truth behind the Crest of Fraldarius. No matter how Felix felt about the man his father had become after the Tragedy of Duscur, the oath was still binding and the logic behind it...still sound. It was also only one of three such oaths he had ever committed to.

Shifting his weight, Felix debated what exactly to tell Byleth as she continued to rub his hands with her slender fingers. “I. I’ve never felt so at peace as when I’m with you.” He wondered if there was a way to keep her trust and maintain his oath at the same time. “That is what love is supposed to feel like...right? This is love that I feel for you?”

Every muscle in Felix’s body tensed. Never before had Felix ever considered romantic love or romance itself positive. They had been nothing than an emotional lie and a worthless ritual. They had been only for fools resigned to their fate; the shackles of an arranged marriage and the production of, as Sylvain called them ‘crest babies’.

But if Byleth truly loved him. Even if love and romance would be distractions during this war, her affection was most welcome. Unfortunately, if Byleth loved him, that only further complicated his dilemma.“Byleth I care for you so much.” With a heavy heart, Felix braced himself. “But I. I can’t tell you what you want to hear.” As her face drifted to the stony state of the Ashen Demon, panic seeped through his veins. “Please. My family needs me to...I’ve sworn myself to—” 

With empty eyes, Byleth nodded. The swordsman felt his place beside her rapidly slip away. “There’s another.”

“What? No! How?” When the words he spoke replayed, Felix understood why Byleth had erected a wall against him. Mortified, he stammered and desperately grasped for the words to win his place back. Eventually, the words formed “Byleth. There is no other...only you. I—”

Felix swallowed the last two words. _ Am I really going to tell Byleth I love her, only to hurt her? _Instead of confessing his love, he explained the oath he had pledged to his family; to protect them through protecting the secret of House Fraldarius. “Worse than bloodshed for my sake would be bloodshed because of my mistake.”

When she bluntly asked if the secret dealt with the Crest of Fraldarius Felix confirmed her suspicion but declined to elaborate. Even that admission felt like a small betrayal. 

As the son of a powerful duke, most of his needs were met for without asking...let alone begging. “I know you’re upset with me and that is your right. Regardless of how you feel.” Begging seemed better than the alternative. “Please don’t push me away. I need to stay beside you.” 

The stony wall Byleth had erected finally crumbled. Instead of tenderness, her face was scrunched. “Fuck you Fraldarius.” She pushed herself off the ground then grabbed her relic and unlit lantern. “I took your counsel.” Out of all the emotions Felix had hoped to see one day, anger was not one of them. “I gave you my secrets. I watched your final moments and saved you in the Valley of Torment.”

Felix’s suspicion had been confirmed; his life had been among the ‘important lives’ lost during the ambush. He had fallen to the archers which had forced Byleth to rewind time. He had caused her pain then...just as he was doing now. 

Despite the anger that lingered on her face, Felix reached out towards Byleth. This time begged her to stay but she rebuked him. “I will speak to you again when I’m ready.” 

As Byleth walked away from him towards camp, Felix felt her shadow engulf him. The next morning as the swordsman prepared for the march, he found the Sword of Moralta secured to his horse’s saddle. Through the county of House Acheron, the House Fraldarius army continued to progress.

* * *

In the late afternoon sun, Felix gripped the Gloucester heir by his pauldron and forced him forward. If the lowering of Imperial banners were any indication, the ‘Great Bridge Coup’ (the name his old man had dubbed the operation) had been successful. Quickly, the swordsman’s eyes darted around for Byleth. The troops he had been attached to had weathered the attack by both House Glouster and House Acheron from the north but the former mercenary had not joined him. 

Pushing Lorenz past the makeshift field hospital Felix listened to the exhausted soldiers for information. From what he gathered, the troops led by Byleth had at least seized the ballistas. Before he allowed himself to panic at the lack of details, Felix reminded himself that the former mercenary could rewind time. Out of anyone on the battlefield...she was fine...he hoped. What disturbed Felix enough to make the blood leave his face were the whispers of what the troops led by his old man had encountered. For the first time since the original defense of Garreg Mach demonic beasts had reemerged as tools of war.

Down a staircase, his old man limped. Though Felix would never admit it aloud ease wash over him. His father was battered but still alive. Few words were exchanged as they passed one another.

“Where is the professor?” Though her title was still bitter, Felix knew better than to use Byleth’s given name. 

His old man’s reply was only four words: “Upstairs, in the tower.” He was long behind Felix when his voice bellowed over the others. “What is this girl doing here? This is an army, not an orphanage.”

Following the directions given by his old man, Felix approached the wooden door. With any luck, Byleth would not only be unharmed but willing to speak with him again.

As the door opened the first voice Felix heard was that of the Aegir heir. “As considerate as your offer may be. I must regretfully confess, my ransom would not be funded. House Aegir was stripped of its assets when my father was put under house arrest.”

The swordsman pushed his prisoner through the doorway and after a beat, the Glouster heir spoke. “Professor, it’s been a while.” All eyes temporarily fell upon Felix as he entered the room but his eyes only sought out the one's colored green. “If I knew you and Sylvain were our destination, I would have insisted we grab the Bergamot from my quarters.”

In the dimly lit space, Mercedes sat next to Ferdinand on a cot and tended to the bloody bandages across his bare chest and arms. Vaguely the conversation continued. The healer inquired Lorenz about his wounds then Sylvain, who sat cross-legged next to the cot, began to ask questions. 

To the other side of the room, the swordsman’s eyes flicked and finally set themselves on Byleth leaned against the stone wall. Perhaps more accurately with her narrowed eyes and crossed arms his eyes set themselves on the Ashen Demon leaned against the stone wall. He banished the thought. They were not in battle. Somewhere under that stony wall was Byleth. She was the one Felix tentatively approached.

The Gloucester heir raised his voice as the swordsman stepped nearer to the former mercenary. “Sylvain I had no choice but to follow the Empire if I wanted to live." Felix knew he was within her field of vision but her eyes did not soften as they normally had before. “All that separates the County of Gloucester from the County of Bergliez is the Airmid River and a sliver of Acheron territory. It is a noble's duty to protect the commoner from needless conflict."

Sylvain’s brow was wrinkled and his voice was laced with concern. “Professor, this isn’t exactly my call to make here. Help a guy out here, what should we do with Lorenz?”

Since the night before last, Felix had only heard stony silence from Byleth. Today her words were again short and flat. “Same terms as Aegir.”

An uncomfortable silence began to permeate the room until Sylvain cleared his throat and jovially spoke. “As usual Lorenz, you’re always going on about noble duty. If you want to keep doing that duty I suggest you take one of the options I give ya. Option one: we keep you in a small room until the war is over to make sure your father cooperates. Option two: we ransom you to Claude and let him use you to control your father. Option three: you convince your father to cooperate with us and you join our ranks.”

The Glouster heir stammered. “You’re inviting me to join you? But...to abandon House Glouster? No-I can convince my father. I will help you topple the Empire, I swear it. I’ll send a letter home. My father is much like Claude. They both prioritize their own interests above all else. So long as those interests are in alignment he will cooperate.” 

With that Sylvain escorted their newest ally away. Hopefully to pen a letter to Count Glouster, likely over tea. Still, even with two fewer bodies in the room, it felt cramped. Against the wall next to the former mercenary the swordsman leaned but still, her eyes refused to soften or meet his.

Reflecting back on Ferdinand’s words, Felix realized the Aegir heir had not decided his fate. Never before had he considered Ferdinand a friend. However, the sooner the issue was resolved, the sooner he could attempt to speak with Byleth privately.

Felix scoffed and marched over to the cot. “You’re either a fool or blind if you’re unwilling to oppose Edelgard. At the academy, you and Lorenz constantly lectured everyone on a noble’s duty to commoners? Does that duty only apply to those in the Dukedom of Aegir? Even if that is the case, that is no excuse to align yourself with those committing horrors against commoners.” Ferdinand cocked his head. “Are you unaware of exactly who the Adrestian Emperor has allied herself with?” As Felix detailed the Faerghus Dukedom’s abuses in the County of Galatea, Ferdinand grew pale. “Despite your pompous attitude, I was under the impression you could think for yourself. Now I see you are nothing more than Edelgard's puppet.”

Slowly Ferdinand spoke. “I am a poor ally without House Aegir’s assets but I shall join you and muster what I can. Aegir territory lies east...downstream of the Airmid River. As necessary as Edelgard’s purge was, my father’s former vassals are displeased with it. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage.”

Felix nodded his head then looked at Byleth. He wondered what the tactician would have said next. “When you think of more, you **will ** tell us.”

After a long pause, Ferdinand carefully spoke. “I am unsure how accurate this information is but Edelgard was gathering troops at Fort Merceus. While the missive did not state her intentions, it would be reasonable to assume she plans to march north.”

“Did you just say Edelgard is marching north.” There was finally emotion in Byleth’s voice and a spark of life with her eyes. “Mercedes, take Aegir to Duke Fraldarius immediately. Have him repeat exactly what he just said." Against the stone wall, the tactician tapped her fingers. Although her eyes still refused to meet his, her acknowledgment was enough for now. "Fraldarius. Good work. I need you to bring Gautier to me when he wraps up with Glouster. You’re both with me.”

It would be one day of flying and eighteen hours of camping before Byleth acknowledged him again.

* * *

On what a topographical map considered the highest point near Grondor Field they waited. Flying meant packing light, which in turn meant even the basic luxuries of a campsite were no more. Bedrolls had been laid out in the open and a single fire cooked a few rabbits that had been hunted. Though it would be impossible to see the Imperial Army’s movement, it was reasonable to expect to see light from their campfires. So as the sun sank their own campfire was quickly extinguished before the scouts took to the air. 

With her eyes impatiently fixed on the southern horizon, Byleth sighed. The scouts had refused to share their saddles while they flew their routes. Even though that had been the sole reason she had demanded to accompany them alongside her two most trustworthy soldiers.

Trustworthy. Ever since that night, Byleth had wondered on and off what she had done to be considered untrustworthy by Felix. While she wasn’t a Fraldarius, they had already shared so much about one another.

Sylvain interrupted her thoughts. “So say the Empire is marching north.” With few ways to occupy their time, he cleaned the Lance of Ruin. “And say we take down Edelgard. What do you think His Highness will do next?”

With his cloak’s hood over his head, Felix retorted. “I bet 'the dead' will demand a new head. How many do you think it will take before the head is one of our own?”

Uncomfortably Byleth shifted. “I’d rather not consider that possibility. We need to take back Faerghus soon or His Highness might not have anything to rule over once this is all over eventually.”  
  
“We’ll just see what the new year brings I guess.” Byleth nodded at Sylvain’s remark. “I can’t remember the last New Year’s that I actually celebrated. I almost miss the week of cleaning that led up to the ball itself. All for the sake of a traditional fresh start to the year. Any interesting traditions or steamy midnight kisses from your mercenary days you’d like to share Professor?”

A deep red scowl spread over the swordsman’s face. Was he jealous? After everything did he have the gall to be jealous? Byleth took a deep breath and considered Sylvain’s question. It was strange. Whenever she looked back at her mercenary days the colors always seemed much duller than even the colors during this war.

Biting her lip, Byleth bitterly admitted. “I’m not sure. Most years there was too much of a language barrier to understand traditions. I think I remember hearing fireworks at night. When I was young Papa told me I was too young to stay awake and when I grew older I guess I was just too busy?”

Both men deeply frowned. “Tch. You didn’t miss anything.” Felix scoffed. “Faerghus balls are stuffy. Worse at least in Fraldarius territory, you're supposed to kiss EVERYONE present on the cheek midnight. If I didn't know better I would believe you invented the tradition yourself, Sylvain.” A snicker escaped from Byleth’s lips and when she looked at Felix she could tell he was suppressing a smile.

Gazing out into the blackened sky, Byleth considered Sylvain’s words. A new year meant a fresh start. Although she has not yet forgiven Felix, she knew he deserved a path towards it. Beneath his prickly exterior was a good man. A man who was doing what he felt was best to protect his family. Just like her own father probably had done to protect her from Rhea.

"Huh..well look at that." Sylvain nudged Byleth with his elbow and directed her attention to follow his finger. “This might be a happy new year after all.” Sure enough, the paladin had spotted a faint but certain source of light. Over the course of the next hour, the source only grew. Presumably, as additional fires were lit.

While only the scouts above could confirm if indeed they had seen the Imperial Army, for the time being, it appeared Ferdinand’s information had been accurate. Unsure of how long the scouts’ route would take, the trio agreed to begin their shifts at sleep. They would have to act quickly on the information acquired which would be difficult in a sleep-deprived state.

After wishing an early ‘Happy New Year’, the two men settled into their bedrolls while Byleth kept the watch. The former mercenary allowed herself to move her bedding closer to the swordsman, who held the next watch. With Sylvain nearby, Byleth didn’t dare speak of what had transpired between herself and Felix. At the same time, she wanted...needed to give the man some form of consolation before he drifted off to sleep.

Words to comfort Felix without alerting Sylvain seemed impossible. ‘I still love you’ was true but obvious. ‘I forgive you’ was less obvious but also untrue. With a smile meant only for him, Byleth settled on: “Fraldarius, make sure you don’t attack me when I rouse you.” 

The swordsman let out a chuckle then shut his eyes. Mere seconds later the way to comfort Felix without risk became obvious. In her travels, there were never tavern songs exclusively to greet the new year. The only slower songs she could recall toasted partings both temporary and permanent. Taking a deep break Byleth hoped they were suitable a lullaby and began to hum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, that moon got messy. Fair warning the next chapter might take a little longer to write. Grondor Field is imho the weakest point of writing in the game. There are so many terrible inconsistencies. I am convinced the battle only happened because they really wanted to shoehorn all three factions fighting one another. /endrant
> 
> If you're interested in being a beta for one chapter (and one chapter only) slip into my Twitter DMs. I'm trying something funky and if it goes poorly...it won't be pretty.


	12. Blood of the Eagle and Lion (Great Tree Moon 1186)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! So before you scroll on down for the (hopefully not too) long-awaited chapter on Grondor Field I'd like to chat. When I set out to write this chapter I wanted three things.  
1\. To smooth out the strange details surrounding the battle.  
2\. To create a sense of tension, even though we all know what is about to happen.  
3\. To give a small taste of what open field medieval combat was actually like at least before the major clash
> 
> A gentle reminder that Byleth has been wearing [plate](https://twitter.com/saviana572/status/1216877030601396227/photo/1) since the beginning of the war. For my interpretation of this battle please assume Grondor Field is much larger than the map we did combat on. it fit three armies after all. Now time for caveats because I've done the research. In true battles, most of the combat would be small skirmishes. However, I would literally just be repeating the same form of words over and over. No one wants that. Also as shown briefly during the ambush calvary would be king. However, if I'm just going to put everyone on a horse, I mind as well put them all on a wyvern because of min-maxing. 
> 
> Hopefully, this is the longest battle that I'll have to set up. But there are quite a lot of moving pieces that have to fit together to tell this major set piece of the war
> 
> Though it is perhaps not perfect. I hope with all sincerity that this chapter will live up to the expectations you all have for it. So please sit back, try to relax, and enjoy the tale I've spun

Under a cloudy night sky, Byleth rubbed her heavy eyelids. Ths scouts had returned maybe an hour ago with a detailed but troubling report. On one hand, the campsite they had discovered was too small to be occupied by anyone other than the Imperial Army. However, the size of the campsite suggested the army was much larger than Byleth had anticipated. At this altitude, a campfire would possibly alert the enemy that someone was nearby. Because of that, a report detailing the scouting party’s findings had been written by a single well-concealed candle. 

A chill ran through Byleth. Without a fire, the former mercenary clutched her cloak, her only shield from the cold, closer to her chest. In the past Byleth had been able to combat fatigue with caffeine but without fire, that battle had already been lost. Sleeping in full heavy armor made for restless, fitful slumber. However, even if that rest was only temporary, Felix needed to be roused before it came. After removing her gauntlets, Byleth nudged the lump burrowed into the blankets of the bedroll next to her. Predictably Felix jolted awake and roughly grabbed her wrist.

The swordsman’s voice was rough with sleep. “Byleth?” When she whispered his name, Felix loosened his warm grip on her wrist. Ever her right-hand, he asked “The scouts?” 

“Asleep. Their report is in my saddlebag.” Another chill pierced her body, Byleth shivered and felt her teeth chatter. “I’m fading so the watch is yours.”

Without a source of light, colors and details were impossible to make out. Yet, Byleth knew the swordsman’s silhouette intimately in nearly every sense of the word. She knew the outline of his leather armor and exactly where on his left bicep it ended. She knew the flow of his cloak, which was pulled up over his head and the heat it radiated when they embraced. Reaching out, Byleth traced the fuzz which framed Felix’s face down to his cheek.

A yelp left the swordsman’s mouth. His breath felt molten against her frigid fingers “How are you so cold?” Felix rose from his bedding to kneel beside her. “You’ll warm up faster if you lie where I slept. I’m not taking no as an answer.” 

Inwardly Byleth chuckled. Despite his bluster against it, Felix was romantic...in his own way. Leaning in, she kissed her swordsman on the cheek. “Happy New Year.” It was only after that she remembered the Fraldarius tradition that he seemed to loathe. “Sorry. I just—”  
  
Instead of recoiling, Felix returned the gesture. Grazing his lips against her cheek tenderly. “Happy New Year. I—” 

After a beat, they spoke over one another. “I’m not angry.”... “I’m sorry.”  
  
There was a hint of mirth in Felix’s voice when he next spoke. “You’re letting the heat escape my bed. Lie down.” Byleth nodded and began to slide into the bedroll. “Body heat typically works faster but. It’s not that I wouldn’t want...don’t want to. I’m afraid I’d fall asleep again if I did.” 

Pulling the blankets over herself, the lingering warmth Felix had left as well as a sense of comfort enveloped Byleth. Although things hadn’t been fixed between them, she felt strangely content nevertheless. Much to her surprise, instead of beginning his watch, her swordsman remained knelt next to her, leaning his head down. 

Further, Felix sunk his head, each word brushed up against her ear. “I hurt you. For that, I am sorry and I know I haven’t been forgiven.” As his forehead came to rest upon her own, Byleth felt as if Felix was outpouring his strength into her. The gesture was so chaste yet held so much emotion behind it. Byleth closed her eyes and savored the feeling. “But I _ will _earn your trust again. No matter how long it takes.”

“You never-” A yawn escaped Byleth's throat. “Never lost my trust, Felix.” 

A huff of air from Felix’s chuckle brushed against her ear. “That’s.” A warm sensation brushed against her forehead. “Thank you. I wish—" After a beat, he inquired. “What did the Blade Breaker...your father do to help you sleep at night? There must be something I can do.”

Her father’s light brown hair came to the front of her mind. "Not sure. Alcohol? Papa read to me when...I was young. Anything he...could.” Despite the stiffness from her armor, Byleth felt herself slowly slipping. “Stroked my hair once...was...I...sick?”

Felix's voice grew distant yet she could still feel his touch. “Heh. Sleep tight Byleth. I'll be right beside you.” Byleth did not feel her swordsman's gloves weave through her hair. Rather she felt the hood of her cloak be tugged up and snuggly over her forehead. “You're......well-loved.”

* * *

Over the course of the next two days, the Fraldarius Army progressed south though the County of Bergliez. Though unfortunate, the battalion led by Lorenz stayed behind to keep the bridge secured. While the Aegir troops and their heir were sent back to their territory. With the hope that Ferdinand would successfully negotiate with his father's former vassals.

The third day saw the delivery of a troubling scouting report. A sizeable Alliance force had been spotted. That evening’s war council, it was decided that ‘why’ was a more important question than ‘how’. As the sun sank, an envoy was sent by a pegasus to make contact with Duke von Riegan. When the envoy’s body was delivered slightly before dawn, Byleth had been asleep. Despite her insistence during an emergency briefing that Claude would be a fool to betray them, word of his supposed treachery spread like wildfire.

By the fourth day, Imperial archers began their harassment on the vanguard and scouts attempting to thin their numbers. On the fifth day, the main Fraldarius Army arrived at Grondor Field. Byleth was relieved when the initial scouting report confirmed that only the Adrestian Emperor’s army was present. From a distance, the strategic battle between the two forces began. With each report, the Fraldarian vanguard maneuvered, jockeying for a more favorable strategic positioning for the main army. While pegasus scouts kept track of enemy movement, scouting by horseback became necessary to closely check conditions of the terrain itself. 

Riding alongside Duke Fraldarius, a sense of unease washed over Byleth when she recognized the river they had begun to follow. It was the very one she crossed over as a professor during the mock battle. Her only solace was that there was now a natural defensive barrier between the Imperial and Fraldarius armies.

It was Duke Fraldarius who remembered the usually abandoned fortification on the field. As a sign of trust, Byleth sent Felix alongside Sylvain and a small platoon to gather information on the fortification’s status. Initially, she was unconcerned when the scouting party returned later than normal. After all, finding a natural river crossing took time. With every hour that progressed however...worry overtook her. The scouting party had not yet returned when the time came to consider camp for the day. Without sufficient intelligence, the army marched slightly north. 

As Byleth assisted in the construction of the command tent, a commotion erupted at the edge of the camp. She looked up from the stake she had driven into the ground and saw the flash of a white horse with a barding of solid burgundy, House Gautier’s color. However, it was not Sylvain’s that screamed out for a healer as his stallion rode away. No, from the sound of the voice the rider was Felix. 

Byleth dropped the hammer in her hand and jogged towards the medical tent. To her frustration, she was denied entry. Within moments a pale Duke Fraldarius sprinted up to the tent but he too was turned away. The shouts of the healers within the tent unsettled the former mercenary as she sat and waited with the noble. 

Hesitantly she asked. “Do we know anything?”  
  
Again the duke twisted the ring on his pinkie. “The scouts said my son was bucked from his horse. Some dark spell spooked it. I left to check on Felix after.”  
  
It was understandable why the duke was concerned. An accident from horseback could result in anything from a few minor scrapes to major damage to the spinal cord. While white magic could mend skin and bind minor nerve injuries...severed nerves were irreparable. For the first time, Byleth saw the duke. Not as a noble but as a father concerned for the wellbeing of his son. 

Exhaling, Byleth attempted to give the man what comfort she could. “When the scouts came in, I think your son was the lead rider. He must be fine.”

Minutes passed like hours but only small-talk was exchanged between the two. They briefly discussed the County of Galatea and the progress made by the Knights of Seiros there. They swapped the stories of their experiences during the mock battle. However, Byleth avoided the only other topic she knew they had in common; Felix. Though it felt like an eternity the flap of the medical tent opened eventually opened. and Felix walked out on his own two feet. Until a weight on her shoulders vanished, Byleth hadn’t realized she was tense. 

Felix had a small smile on his face and seemed to be mid-conversation “Have a speedy recovery. Sylvain? Thank you.”

The moment Felix laid eyes upon his father the smile swung to a scowl. “Tch. Here to scold me for not bringing honor to our family? As if anything else matters to you.”

Duke Fraldarius only glanced to the side. When Byleth spoke, Felix’s eyes widened as if he had not noticed she had been present. “You look...well. What happened?”  
  
Felix’s eyes darted to his father then back to her. “You could have asked the other scouts, Professor.” Whether Felix had intended to reprimand or to tease her, Byleth couldn’t tell. “I’m fine. They already healed the damage and cleared me for duty. The philandering fool should follow in a few days.” 

Byleth frowned. In an open field, calvary was essential for flanking and breaking tight formations. Before his injury, Sylvain had been her frequent choice to lead. Despite his carefree attitude, he was capable, intelligent and well-liked by the soldiers. At least by those who didn’t have a noble daughter. 

“As for the scouting report.” Felix continued “Someone certainly put something on top of the fortification. We were attacked before anyone put sure eyes on it.” 

It was fortunate that the army’s current position was defensively favorable because of the river. There would be no need to relive the memory of the mock battle with higher stakes. Then again one could never expect an enemy to cooperate when making plans for engagement.

“Your Grace, we should be able to avoid the fortification. If not, I can guarantee it will be taken if you give me the troops I need.”

“Don’t be foolish, Professor.” Felix’s voice exuded scorn. “The ballistas you previously seized were fixed onto the bridge. They had a fixed arch of firing. If one is encamped on top of the fortification, it would have no such limitation. No matter where you’d make your move, you would charge up its arc.”

"And that is why we need a capable commander with the right _ skill-set _to take it.” 

Byleth hoped Felix understood what skillset she was referring to. Out of all the commanders, she was the only one who could have multiple attempts to eliminate the threat. Regardless of her swordsman’s reservations, the duke agreed to her request if it became necessary, then departed. 

Felix’s eyes shifted over the camp before he spoke. “That was the best strategy you could come up with _Professor_?” He gritted the title through his teeth and clenched his fists. “Putting yourself in danger and rolling the dice?” Again his eyes shifted and he dropped to a whisper. “Even if you have multiple rolls. This is going to be difficult for us to take.”  
  
Mindful of her surroundings, Byleth resisted moving closer to Felix. “You’re not joining me Fraldarius.” She took a deep breath and lowered her tone “I’m aware how dangerous this is but that fortification needs to be taken. So Felix, choose an option. I go alone and protect myself to guarantee my survival or you come along and I protect your survival...maybe at the cost of my own.”

Before emotions were able to cloud her judgment, Byleth reminded herself that despite her swordsman being upset, their separation in that worst-case scenario would be for the best. 

Felix's sunken eyes gave away his disapproval. "I don't like your plan. If it devolves to that...I'll trust you to come back to me." Despite his tender words, her swordsman dejectedly sulked away. 

On the morning of the sixth day, in the Fraldarius command tent, Byleth’s daily routine began. As with every morning, the war council gathered to receive the initial scouting report and decide on a course of action. 

Touching her lips to her tin mug, Byleth closed her eyes and gulped down the bitter black tea. When the skirmishes began two days ago, the former mercenary began to wear armor even after the day’s march was completed. Fatigue and stiffness were beginning to take their tolls.

Just as Byleth filled her mug with hot water for the second steeping of the tea leaves, the tent flap opened. The scout was strangely pallor and as Gilbert intercepted the report that color spread to him. The air in the tent became thick as the scouts’ findings were announced. Overnight, House Riegan’s standard had entered Grondor Field. It was the Duke of Fraldarius that spoke first and reminded those assembled of the army’s superior position. For the time being, it was possible to wait and see how the other armies maneuvered.  
  
The former prince rose from his chair and leaned against Areadbhar. “That vile woman has been within reach the past two days. You are all cowards! I **will **finally kill her! I **will** finally avenge them!”  
  
Gripping her mug tightly, Byleth tried to control her irritation. “You will not pave your way to her with unnecessary corpses. There is no reason to engage until it is advantageous for us.”  
  
A far too familiar scene replayed in front of Byleth. As usual, she had stood up to the His Highness’s madness and in turn, he stood within her space in an attempt to intimate her. “You would allow that woman to slip away from me.” The former mercenary sipped her tea as his words rammed against her. “I’ve warned you before Professor what would happen if you stood in my way.”

“I’m not in your way. When we engage, we will do so safely.” As usual, like a spoiled child, the former prince left. “Your Grace, the last time we sent an envoy to the Alliance they were at quite a distance. I recommend we try again and volunteer myself. You're all aware of my brief history with the Alliance leader when I taught at Garreg Mach.”  
  
It had become exceedingly rare for Byleth to be awake without being wrapped up in the ongoing tactical struggle. So as the other commanders debated her suggestion, she allowed herself to sit back and sip her tea. 

At first, when the noise outside of the tent increased, the former mercenary thought nothing of it. When the noise turned to cheers, Byleth rose from her chair. From where it hung, she grabbed the belt holding the Sword of the Creator. Outside of the tent, the troops looked less like an army and more like a mob.  
  
The mad prince’s voice resonated through the campsite. “Some would have you march away while the enemy is at hand. But I say: kill every last one of them!” As he pointed Areadbhar south...the troops began to march.

* * *

On horseback, the Ashen Demon crossed the bridge. In a flash, she found herself underwater. With every trash of her horse, she felt the stirrups around her legs entangle as the sun faded into the silt around her. Struggling to not obey her instinct to breathe, Byleth reached up towards what she thought was the sky and pulsed. It was just as she broke the surface that her mouth instinctively opened for air. Allowing her seared lungs to fill, the former mercenary watched the ballista bolt which had pierced her horse fly back to the fortification in the near distance. 

The world was a blur as time was jerked backward...to the moment before she had led her assigned platoon across the bridge. Slipping her mask on again, the Ashen Demon released her hold on time. A simple extension of her hand in the air ordered a halt. She waited for a scream. Only after did she drop her hand to signal the advance. 

Cantering across the bridge, the former mercenary began to ignore all else around her. There were no longer troops ahead of her which broke to the west. There was no longer a platoon of elite Fraldarian sword wielders attached to her. There was only the Ashen Demon and a pathetic fortification that would soon be seized. As the stony surface turned to grass, signaling the end of the bridge, a dense fog unnaturally rolled in and enveloped the battlefield. After a deep breath proved the air wasn’t noxious, the Ashen Demon spurred her horse deeper into the grey murk. Around her, the clash of blades and the howls of the wounded were dampened. 

Finally, a group of Imperial fortress knights broke through the fog into her view. A barrage of hatchets thrown in her direction was their ‘greeting’. Ignoring the screams around her, the former mercenary dismounted and unsheathed the Sword of the Creator. The red glow washed over the enemy knights, and seemingly coated the fog itself. As the Ashen Demon stalked forward, her enemies inched backward. The first _crack _of the relic sent the extended whip into the ground, kicking up dirt and grass into the air. 

To shred through the armor of those who stood in her path, the Ashen Demon activated the Crest of Flames. Snapping the extended whip behind her, she prepared to strike. But when the former mercenary surged forward, an equal force shoved her onto her back. 

From her gut, numbness seeped. Presumably from the wound. The former mercenary knew her adrenaline would not last forever. She also knew better than to look down. Quickly she closed her eyes and let loose a second pulse. _Panic is death._ _The Ashen Demon feels no emotion. The Ashen Demon feels no panic. Panic is death. _Repeating the words within her mind, the Ashen Demon braced herself for the removal of what she hoped was an arrow. Unbarbed if she was fortunate. _The Ashen Demon will not die. The only panic is death. The Ashen Demon feels nothing. _One short tug on the flow of time caused a white-hot pain to scorch her abdomen. She ground her teeth together to trap the scream that attempted to escape.

As she tugged a second time a pressure left her body. Bile rose from her throat as she felt inch by inch of her flesh stitch itself together again. The former mercenary opened her eyes to investigate her situation. After allowing the pain in her gut to cease, she tugged again and watched a ballista bolt drift into the fog. _ The Ashen Demon feels no emotion. The Ashen Demon feels no frustration. _

It was a distinct possibility that whoever manned the ballista had seen the Sword of the Creator's red glow. A different sword was a possible solution to escaping death. Briefly, she regretted returning the Sword of Moralta. Then again the sacred weapon was never hers to keep. However, had she been calmer at the time she might have had the foresight ask for one of the swordsman’s spares. Byleth's eyes began to wander west. _ The Ashen Demon feels no emotion. Focus. _

Loosening her hold on time, the Ashen Demon again disregarded the screams of those around her from the hatchet attack. As the enemy fortress knights tore closer, she bent down and hastily grabbed a steel sword from the ground. When an axe clashed against the steel she activated the Crest of Flames and pushed. The knight was sent tumbling onto the ground. Into the gap, the Ashen Demon lunged. With her sword arm, the side of a knight to her right was pierced while her left reached for her dagger. Shortly another knight joined the other two on the ground when the dagger plunged past the bevor around the back of their neck. The Ashen Demon twisted both blades. The corpses of the two imperial knights released their holds on the blades and crumpled to the ground. With each step pressed forward and each blow dealt the cheers around her grew. When again fog was all her field of vision could see, she allowed the Crest of Flames to fade. After sheathing her dagger the Ashen Demon pointed her sword ahead, signaling a charge.

Near the top of the fortification, the former mercenary scanned the fog-filled horizon. From the moment the mist had rolled in, it had been obviously magic-based. Unfortunately, there was no visible sign of its caster. Still, the search continued as she climbed the stairs up. A bolt of red in the eastern sky caught the Ashen Demon’s attention. It was as if a flare in the sky had been shot to the ground. However, that concept was preposterous. No one would launch a flare into the ground. Another step was taken and yet another red flare fell. Eliminating that possibility left only one other option. What she was witnessing was a Hero’s Relic.

Blitzing down the eastbound steps, the Ashen Demon was met not by a knight in crimson but by a blonde grappler in yellow. When the Alliance soldier swung at her, the former mercenary was forced to dodge and embed her dagger within the attacker's spine. In the distance, another streak of red launched towards the earth. The Ashen Demon dropped her spare blade and reached again for the Sword of the Creator and braced to be targeted. Again the fog around her was coated in red but this time no retribution came. 

Slowly the crack of a whip cleared unfortunate Alliance soldiers from her path until the colors ahead turned from yellow to blue. A flash of red whizzed by the former mercenary’s head. When she looked south to investigate the source all she saw was an albino wyvern tail disappearing into the fog. Loosening her grip on the Sword of the Creator to dissipate the glow, the Ashen Demon waited.

A bolt of red launched from the air and embedded itself mere feet from where she stood. From above a horn sounded. The Ashen Demon gave the order to prepare a volley and waited. The fog vanished serendipitously, exposing the albino wyvern and its squad to the prepared volley. Down the tanned skin rider clad in gold fell until mere feet away the body of Duke von Riegan lay limp on the ground 

A panicked pulse was let off in horror. With each pull on the flow of time Claude’s body drifted back into the sky. Another pull and Byleth found herself short of breath. Over the course of the battle, she had put much strain on her body. Even if the injuries she had sustained had not technically happened she felt the phantom pains in her lungs and torso begin to ache. Forcibly the former mercenary coughed as she struggled to maintain her grasp on time

When the fog finally concealed her old friend, Byleth loosed her grasp on the flow of time. This time when the horn sounded the former mercenary gave the order to retreat then began to stumble southeast. She forced one foot in front of the other while the fog around her cleared. If she could just make it to a familiar face, perhaps an alliance with the Alliance could still be salvaged.

Another step forward was taken. Felix was a fantastic right-hand but Claude was likely still the better tactician. Maybe better than herself.

Another step forward was taken when a wave of force launched Byleth into the dark. A pressure built within her head and against the base of her neck until her entire existence was a high pitched whine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I had to ignore:  
Why are we engaging a force with WAY superior numbers?  
I could have sworn the entire reason for taking the bridge was the fact that it was the only way to transport an army into the Empire.  
Claude allied with Byleth to take the bridge why not just ask to use it  
Why (even in the cutscene) are the soldiers listening to Dimitri?
> 
> A million thanks to TH who gave me a quick beta and stopped what would have been a terrible idea. I owe this chapter being on time to you.
> 
> Obviously fog of war is based off of Edelgard's quote "I will create such chaotic warfare that they won't be able to tell who is friend and who is foe."
> 
> As always I look forward to your comments and speculation on what happened.


	13. Anguish of the Wolf (Great Tree Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another account of Grondor Field.

The sound of chanting continued in the thick fog as another chunk of scale fell from the demonic beast. Felix groaned. Annette’s battalion of mages was still channeling its spell. More time needed to be bought. An ear-piercing howl overpowered the mages’ chant. The swordsman saw his opportunity when the beast reared onto its hind legs. Quickly Felix lunged left. Ignoring the dull ache in his sword-hand, he activated the Major Crest of Fraldarius. Electricity surged through his veins erasing the fatigue of battle.

Black ichor dripped down the blade as Felix cleaved through the creature’s tendons and muscle in its leg. Down to the ground, the demonic beast tumbled. The chanting came to a close, cracks of white light ripped through the fog, illuminating the battlefield before crashing into the demonic beast. As the tell-tale roll of thunder followed, Felix nodded to Annette in acknowledgment of the killing blow.

Allowing the Major Crest of Fraldarius to fade before advancing, Felix shook his sword-hand. His experience in Grondor Field had been similar to his experience in Ailell. The moment his feet had hit the western bridge his crest had ached and conjured a female with purple hair and grey eyes. Unlike in the Valley of Torment, the one targeting the Boar with a ballista was a familiar face; Bernadetta von Varley. 

Though he knew it would be futile Felix once more tried to dislodge the recluse from his mind. He tried to imagine mint hair and fierce green eyes. However, the Crest of Fraldarius refused him Byleth’s comfort and forced the Verley heiress to the forefront of his mind.

Felix scoffed. If the recluse wanted the Boar he would not obstruct her. Felix’s eyes wandered east. Byleth would come back to him. So no matter what price the Kingdom might pay, he would come back to her.

Over corpses from both factions, Felix trod south and eventually rejoined the chaos of battle. The swordsman mangled his enemies until an arrow embedded itself within his leather armor. Archers. Of course, archers could take a lucky shot in this fog and eventually hit a target. Raising the Aegis Shield the swordsman sprinted ahead. He needed to close the distance between himself and the enemy before another blind volley came. 

Imperial red finally entered Felix’s vision though it was obscured by a barricade. This time when the archers loosed their volley, the arrow intended for him only shoved the relic back into his chest with a _ thud _. With the Aegis Shield, the swordsman bashed the skull of an archer, sending the enemy toppling over. He vaulted over the barricade and screams of panic surrounded him. The second rank of enemy archers scrambled to trade their bows for more suitable armaments. 

Over the clamor of battle, the Boar’s voice reverberated. “Move! Do not let that woman slip through my fingers! Capture her! Break her bones! But leave her head! That is mine to take!”

The hazy battlefield again was illuminated. This time by a tower of golden rings. From above, an aura spell crashed down upon the archers blazing a wide path for the torrent of troops to continue straight. 

However, the swordsman stopped. His shoulder felt damp. On one hand, if the arrow had gone too keep, his shield-arm wouldn’t have been able to bash the archer. On the other hand, the healer who had cast aura had to have been close by. There was no sense risking further damage. 

To his consternation when the swordsman turned around it became clear who had cast aura. Upon white horses, his father and two other holy knights trotted towards him. The trio approached Felix and even his father pulled back on his reigns to halt. One dismounted and began to inspect his shoulder. Likely to determine how deep the arrow’s impact was.

His old man addressed the healer. “Have him hauled off of the battlefield at your discretion.” 

Under his leather armor, the holy knight placed their hand which brimmed with the warmth of healing. The arrow jerked, the resulting jolt of pain forced Felix to clamp his eyes shut. The Varley heiress again dominated his vision. 

Gripping his sword tighter, Felix spat. “Of course you were nearby. Your favored son needs to be protected after all.”

Calming himself, the warmth from the holy knight’s hand sank deep within Felix’s muscle as the arrow was carefully extracted. Once the wound was safely mended, Felix considered informing his father on who exactly was targeting the Boar. After all, while his old man’s crest had certainly projected the same image, Felix was uncertain if his father had ever met the recluse.

Before the swordsman could speak his crest reacted in a bizarre manner. During the ambush at Ailell and during the Rite of Rebirth the crest had dissipated after Byleth had pulsed to save the Boar. Instead of dissipating the image of the Varley heiress was slowly twisted by the Crest of Fraldarius into the more sinister Hubert von Vestra. Unlike the recluse, the vile snake only held out his arm. 

Climbing into the saddle behind the holy knight, Felix informed his father. “That’s-” Remembering his vow, Felix reconsidered his words. “Watch out for the Vestra heir. At the academy, he was known to lean on darker magic.”

South the holy knights’ horses galloped and soon the din of battle swelled. From the fog emerged a horde of banshees that careened towards them. Around the horses’ limbs, they wrapped slowing their movement down to a walk. The swordsman launched himself off the steed then sprinted ahead to rejoin the wave of allied footsoldiers.

Within Felix’s chest, his heart began to pound. The Crest of Fraldarius seared his sword-hand as if a brand was being held against it. The swordsman stifled the scream that built in his throat. _ Is this the punishment for resisting my death? Fine. I will not give in. I am strong enough to trust Byleth and strong enough to make it back to her. _

Shoving past the wave, Felix dug deep within for the strength to endure. A glimmer of mint hair flickered to the front of his mind. _ Byleth... _

Redetermined, Felix raised the Aegis Shield and slashed into the nearest enemy; a mage dressed in black. From the east, a horn sounded.

A glimmer of mint hair flickered to the front of his mind. Surrounded by wooden debris. _ Byleth? _

The fog became alight with orange then flashed red as the Aegis Shield absorbed the ball of flame. Unnaturally the fog plummeted into the ground, bathing the battlefield in sunlight. 

Mint hair permeated his mind. Byleth lay face down...armor riddled with shrapnel. _ Byleth! _

A whisper echoed. _ “He did threaten to dispose of me if I proved a threat to Edelgard.” _

A glimpse of the Vestra heir was caught. Red tinted Felix’s vision as he stopped resisting the Crest of Fraldarius. The swordsman’s body was no longer his own.

Into the throat and down the sternum of a mage the blade slid. From the fingers of the Vestra heir mere feet away banshees surged. By the Aegis Shield, the phantoms were deflected as the silver sword was unsheathed. The vile snake glanced east, moved his mouth, then raised his arm. The silver sword plunged into the dark bishop.

Before the blade could be twisted for a fatal blow, dark energy erupted upwards from the ground. The Vestra heir vanished. Felix’s senses crept back to him.

From the east, the air rumbled. A pressure pushed against him. Tentatively Felix looked where the shockwave came. Flames. In the distance, the fortification was engulfed in flames. 

Felix stumbled towards Byleth. Her whispers again echoed. _ “So Felix, choose an option. I go alone and protect myself to guarantee my survival” _

_ Then survive! Reverse time damn it! I trusted you! Come back to me. _

A white horse impeded his progress. “You’re after that professor. She’s dead.” His old man’s voice sounded muted as if cotton had been stuffed within Felix’s ears. “You're alive. There is no sense in rescuing the dead. "

Uncontrollable laughter escaped Felix’s lips. “Rich from the man who still serves a dead king. You want me to live so I can sacrifice myself? Die like a true knight?” The cotton from his ears began to choke his mind. An attempt was made to side-step the horse but out of thin air, another horse blocked his path. Felix tried to focus but even speech felt difficult. “I don’t give a damn! I’ll wake her.”

“Haul him back to camp!” His old man ordered. Something blunt slammed into Felix’s side. “He’s clearly not of a sound mind.”

Gripping the silver sword, Felix tried to find the strength to struggle free. His mind flashed to the original defense of Garreg Mach. The day he lost Byleth for five years. Was another five inevitable? Digging down Felix tried to activate his crest...but even that proved futile. As the swordsman was dragged away he bellowed, even as his throat became raw.

* * *

A high pitched whine permeated Byleth's skull. When she opened her eyes, the world spiraled into a nauseating jumble. Six green eyes were framed by tan and gold before she plunged back into darkness.

* * *

After hoisting another tent into a cart, Sylvain hobbled away using the Lance of Ruin as a crutch. While the healers had mended the deep gash in his calf from an axe, the lingering ache still made him limp. He wondered if the ride north would aggravate the injury or worse reopen it.

Earlier a troubling scouting report had circulated around the campsite; Imperial reinforcements were en route to Grondor Field from Fort Merceus. At the time Sylvain had been recovering in the medical tent with assistance from Mercedes. Soon after, his own battalion of cavalry brought orders from Lord Rodrigue. The army was retreating back to the Great Bridge of Myrddin. In a rush, every able-bodied individual had been pressed into quickly dismantling the campsite. 

Lifting the next tent flap, Sylvain instantly recognized its resident from the organized chaos of papers that littered the ground. While many soldiers used the ground as a shelf, only the army’s tactician, his former professor would use it as a table. The paladin groaned. Though the retreat was urgent, Byleth would be angry (in her own way) if vital documents were crumpled or damaged. He had no choice but to carefully store the documents before her tent could be dismantled. 

Navigational charts, topographical maps, and the bedroll were rolled and packed into saddlebags. As Sylvain began to collect the numerous reports, he noticed something odd. The handwriting of two individuals lay in between margins. Most were questions likely posed by the tactician herself but scattered about were remarks in a jagged script. The paladin tried not to pry but a comment on the previous evening's scouting report caught his eye. 

_ Do we really think the Boar will stop with Edelgard’s head? _

Felix. Of course, the other handwriting belonged to Felix. While Sylvain had been forced to stay at Garreg Mach until recently, it had become clear that his friend had settled into his role as the tactician’s right hand. When the last of the Byleth's belongings were packed, Sylvain slung her saddlebags over his shoulders and hobbled towards the exit. On the other side of the tent flap were hunched shoulders and sunken amber eyes that stared beyond him.

"Felix?” For a brief moment, the amber eyes focused before they dropped to the ground. “Hey, are you okay?”

Felix slowly nodded and mumbled. “Fine...just tired.” 

Sylvain carefully mulled Felix’s words over. While his friend **had **just returned from battle and had every right to be exhausted...something felt off. Amber eyes rose from the ground, stared at Byleth’s saddlebags, then clenched shut. It was obvious, something was wrong. 

Unfortunately, even though Sylvain knew Felix felt emotion...his friend was rarely open about them. At least emotions that were not anger or disdain. Things hadn't always been like that. In the past, when their quartet was a quintet, a scowl wasn't Felix's standard expression. The Felix of old smiled easily and often ran into the dress of his mother or Sylvain's own tunic when he was upset. But that was then. Now he would have to wait until his friend approached him...or someone else himself.

Once more Sylvain looked over Felix for any sign of what was bothering him. His eyes were drawn immediately to the swordsman's armor. It was normal for blood to splatter armor and clothes after combat but a pool of blood under one's armor indicated a wound. The paladin prodded the deep red stain on the swordsman’s jacket and found it wet. Odd enough Felix made no reaction to the intrusion. No pain from the prodding sensation and no anger from being touched without permission. Regardless, two options existed. Either the wound hadn't been treated yet or extensive activity had reopened it. Fortunately, the swordsman was not resistant when Sylvain insisted he needed to see a healer.

Attempting to locate a healer, Sylvain’s eyes darted around the nearly barren campsite. He noted that a sizable portion of the army had departed alongside the previously loaded carts. The retreat had moved from dismantling the campsite to evacuating the area. The paladin sighed. That likely meant his own battalion had already deployed as the vanguard without him. Not that he would be able to hold the action against his junior officers. In fairness to them, he hadn’t yet been cleared for active duty. Finally, his eyes settled on Mercedes who was loading a crate into one of the few remaining carts. 

Nearing her, Sylvain called out jovially. “Mercedes! Just the beautiful woman I’ve been looking for!” She giggled, she always giggled at his flirts no matter how fake. “Can you take a quick look at Felix here? I think some of this blood is supposed to be inside of his body.”

“That is where blood typically belongs.” Mercedes stated as she prodded into Felix’s shoulder. “Felix, were you already healed during the battle?” When a barely audible ‘yeah’ left his friend’s lips, the healer sighed and prodded again. “Felix, there is no evidence of a torn artery so you aren’t in danger of bleeding out. Because of that and to avoid compromising your immune system I recommend we treat this traditionally. Is that okay?” It was concerning that his only response to Mercedes was a nod. “Sylvain, can you reach into the cart and grab some bandages and alcohol.” 

Before retrieving the required medical supplies, Sylvain set Byleth’s saddlebags down into the cart for transportation. As Mercedes began her work on the now shirtless swordsman, Sylvain observed the continual evacuation. He wondered and asked into the air. ”Who’s left out on the battlefield anyway?”

Felix winced. Strangely the action comforted Sylvain. Maybe Felix’s behavior was just due to lingering adrenaline.

Mercedes’s voice was small. “No one seems to know for sure. From the little I’ve heard the battle was complete chaos. Somehow we fought both the Alliance and the Empire. May the goddess provide comfort to any wounded left behind.”

Sylvain grimaced at the grizzly but true statement. While the army had not been routed, the battle had still resulted in a retreat. Neither the medics nor the scouts had been given a chance to scour the battlefield. The final casualty report would be days away and perhaps inaccurate at best.

This time when Felix winched, he clenched his sword-hand. Mercedes asked the swordsman if his shoulder was causing him pain, he denied it. Amber eyes darted back and forth across what had been the campsite and settled upon a crowd of soldiers nearby. 

While Sylvain could not see Dimitri, he heard His Highness’s voice reverberate. "We failed to capture that woman! We should be pursuing her! Did that demon of a professor order this retreat?” Felix began to turn a dark shade of red. His Highness came into view and continued. “No matter. I don’t need her! I’ll kill all of them! No matter how many hundreds or thousands of them there are! I will have that woman’s head!”

In horror, Sylvain began to piece Felix’s behavior together. All this time the paladin had assumed the tactician was wrangling His Highness. The truth now reared its ugly head; she was missing in action. Without her to stand up to the prince, the current situation seemed dangerous. 

As Sylvain moved towards the prince, he finally spotted Lord Rodrigue. “No Your Highness. I called the—”

From a crowd of soldiers, a girl with sand-blonde hair emerged. With a loud cackle, she lunged at the prince. However, it was not her target but Lord Rodrigue who she collided with. The assassin continued to stab the duke until finally, the paladin closed the gap and ran her through with the Lance of Ruin. 

The world around Sylvain buzzed. The healers who remained argued on a course of action while attempting to staunch the bleeding. Unfortunately, the threat of Imperial reinforcements loomed. As frantic chanting filled the air, His Highness loaded the duke into the back of a cart then climbed in himself. With any luck, the healers could stabilize Lord Rodrigue until camp could be made again. _ Lord Rodrigue...oh goddess...Felix. _

With dread, Sylvain turned around. A few feet behind him knelt Felix. His friend's eyes were wide and his jaw was slacked...his sword was buried into the ground. For the second time in his life, Sylvain's quick tongue failed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was torn on the PoV for the last scene and went with Sylvain I feel like Felix will be too unreliable of a narrator for a while with how his mind is dealing with grief. Anyway, sorry for the chapter delay but with v-day and a dentist appointment I really had to push myself to get this out even this late.
> 
> As always your comments keep me trucking along.


	14. The Long Colorless Road (Great Tree Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Felix deals with the fallout from Grondor Field, the Blue Lions help in their own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word of the chapter is 'castellan'. Castellan: The title used in Medieval Europe for an appointed official, a governor of a castle and its surrounding territory.

With his head held high and chest puffed out, Duke von Riegan struck the pose of the confident leader with yet another scheme up his sleeve. As usual, what he allowed others to see was a facade. Under the mask of the duke, Claude von Riegan was at a loss. The battle at Grondor Field while not a rout was a disaster. Because of the fog, Kingdom forces had collided into Alliance but no orders for a retreat had been given until a massive loss of life had already been dealt. Now with Imperial reinforcements on the move, a retreat back to Derdriu was unavoidable. 

After giving the continued evacuation effort another glance, Claude entered his tent. He averted his eyes away from the surgery in progress on his cot. His eyes landed on the former mercenary’s battered armor. The punctures and divots in the metal nearly broke his mask into a true grimace. That would not do. This situation called for the comforting jokester, not a frightened friend. 

Teach was unconscious, medically drugged before the surgeons began their work. Still, Claude addressed her as he began to pack his belongings. “Hey, Teach! How have you been treated? OK, I hope.”

A high pitched huff came from the cot’s direction. “Really Claude?” While Lysithea was a gremory by trade, Claude trusted her white magic to keep Teach alive and her eyes to keep the surgeons on task. “Even you aren’t dense enough to believe the Professor can hear you.” She sighed “Progress has been predictably slow. The complexity of removing shrapnel without rupturing arteries is far beyond your understanding.”

Sarcastically he replied. “So far beyond my understanding! That is why I placed you in charge of bringing Teach back to us in a timely manner.”

Placing an old leather-bound journal into his saddlebag, Claude frowned. After Jeralt’s death, he had coerced his friend into letting him borrow the journal her father had left behind. He had studied the musky pages. Searching to uncover the mysteries of Rhea and the Church of Seiros. It had been both his second attempt at using his tentative friendship with Byleth in a scheme and his second failure at it. Even after five years, Claude had more questions than answers. Unfortunately, just as then he needed to attempt to use his friend once more. She was too powerful of a chess piece and the circumstances of the war were too dire. 

"The moment Teach is stabilized she needs to be bound and flown away from Grondor Field." Claude was aware of her unfortunate experience with bindings. It had come up after he had accidentally mentioned one of the many assassination attempts on his life. "We can’t afford to let Edelgard get her hands on the Sword of the Creator...let alone it's wielder.”

Teach would not be happy when she eventually regained consciousness. Hopefully, his friend would forgive him for the part he needed her to play. After all, every action he had ever taken had been to see his ambitions come to fruition.

* * *

The horn that signaled reveille jerked Felix from his slumber. As he opened his weary eyes, rain dripped down the beige canvas of his tent. Tentatively Felix brushed his hand over his left shoulder. Logically the swordsman acknowledged that Grondor Field had occurred. He understood that Byleth was missing. That after going into shock, his father had succumbed to organ failure. Still, Felix searched for a sign that it had all been a terrible dream. His only hope was dashed when the swordsman felt the bandages on his otherwise bare shoulder. _Why hasn’t Byleth reversed time yet? _**_She is dead._** _Byleth is alive. _**_Then why hasn’t she come back to you?_**

Felix dug his nails into his scalp. Sleep (no matter how little) had been a respite from the constant stream of taunts and memories his brain chose to torment him with. _Byleth told me she loved me. _**_Move on._** _I love her. _**_Then where is she? _**_Byleth will be back. _**_In another five years, unlike the old man. _**_I need to get up. _**_Give up. _**_I need to find Byleth. _**_Sleeping would be easier. _**

Pulling the heavy blanket over his head, Felix curled in on himself in the darkness. The day had just begun but already his body craved the peaceful quiet of sleep.

* * *

  
In the dark of night, Felix felt Byleth’s fingers curled under his leather armor. Trailing his bare fingers down the sides of her breastplate, he felt the cold metal become soft cloth. A contented sigh escaped the lips that had been mutually pecking his own. 

Affectionately Byleth whispered “I wish you could stay. It would be nice to have some company when I can’t sleep.”

Felix offered what consolation he could. “One day. No matter the direction we’ll be in civilization soon.” He mused against her lips. “A hot bath, cold ale, and a fresh loaf of bread. I’m adding an item; a bed enclosed by four solid walls.” 

A pleased rumble came from Byleth's throat. “That sounds really nice.” A short silence passed. “Be careful tomorrow so we can share that bed. Your scouting should be routine but the Empire is nearby. Just, good luck.”

While the swordsman still did not believe in luck, something within himself stirred as Byleth pressed their lips together. Be it tens, hundreds, or thousands of enemies that opposed him, none of them possessed the strength to stop him from returning to his rightful place at Byleth’s side.

* * *

Felix nearly sensed Byleth’s lips upon his own from the memory of their last kiss. _ Byleth loves me. I will bring her back. She can fix this pain. _ Mustering what strength he could, Felix crawled on his hands and knees out of the bedroll. After dressing himself, he emerged into the colorless morning. Lowering his head, Felix began to plod towards his old man’s command tent. With every step, the back of his neck seared from the soldiers' sympathetic stares. Pity. **_ They must think you're pathetic. _**

When Felix heard his name being called he swiveled his head towards the voice. A sympathetic smile was plastered across Ashe’s face. _ I’m not some wounded animal. I don’t need your pity. _

“Did you hear me, Felix?” All Felix could manage was an irritated grunt. “I heard what happened to Lord Rodrigue. I’m glad to see you out of bed.” The swordsman narrowed his eyes at the sniper. “When Lonato died the constant whys kept me up at night. It was a struggle just to roll out of bed for classes in the morning.”

“Lord Lonato.” Felix barely recognized that rasp that was his voice. ”You lost your adoptive father while we were at the academy. I forgot.” The aegean blue hair that he once battled beside crossed his mind. “Did...the Professor have words of wisdom for you then?” 

Nervously Ashe chuckled. “Pull yourself together. Those were the professor’s exact words.” Felix nodded and filed Byleth’s words away. “I’m sure now the professor would say something different. She hadn’t grown into her emotions when Lonato died.” The sniper’s face twisted into a frown. “How did we leave the Professor behind? I thought she was right behind my battalion after she ordered our retreat.”

Felix reached out towards the pavilion tent’s flap. “Where were you when she gave you the orders?”

Byleth was still missing. Ashe’s information did not change that fact. However, Felix found a degree of solace in the idea that she had not been trapped in either the initial explosion or the blaze that engulfed the fortification. In the hour that followed, Felix combed through the battle reports from Grondor Field. He hoped to find a hint on Byleth’s fate. The documents, however, had been just as disjointed as the battle itself. _By now she's either in the hands of the Alliance or..._

An image of Hubert von Vestra sinisterly sneered at him.

Slamming his fists upon the long, pine table, Felix stifled the scream in his throat. Angrily he shoved the useless papers onto the dirt below. 

From his father’s seat at the head of the table, Byleth’s position sat two chairs away on the left. Although she was not there, Felix practically watched her eyebrows narrow at his behavior. Indignantly he huffed and collected the scattered reports. _ Pull yourself together. I know. _

“Oh, let me help you with those papers.” Mercedes was always a mother hen, even during their academy days. Before Felix allowed frustration to take root, he reminded himself that she meant well. “I'm so sorry there wasn’t more we could do for—” 

Mercedes’s sympathy was sincere but caused Felix irritation nevertheless. Through gritted teeth, he rasped. “You apologized yesterday. What did you need?”

“Yes, of course. This is a lot to take in, I know. But Lord Rodrigue has been prepared for his final journey. As his next of kin, your input is needed.” From the pile of papers gathered in his hands, Felix looked up and raised his eyebrow. “Where is his final destination?”

Felix snapped. “I don’t care where the old man’s corpse goes!”

* * *

Underground, in Fraldarius family catacombs, incense and wailing stifled the damp air. Within a small niche in the rocky wall, a battered steel breastplate lay. Clenching his bruised fists into the sleeves of his black tunic, Felix tore his vision away from what remained of his brother. 

“Oh, goddess, by whose mercy the faithful departed find rest.” The bishop who had never met Glenn droned on above the mournful cacophony. “Bless this niche with which we mark the resting place of Glenn Aeneas Fraldarius.” 

As the bishop continued his prayers, Felix glanced around the dimly lit space seeking a distraction. He barely recognized his own mother. Her amber eyes and brown hair were obscured by a black veil but it could not hide the stream of tears that slipped down her chin.

* * *

After rebottling his emotions, Felix regretted his words. While he still refused to forgive or mourn his old man, his mother deserved to bury her husband instead of another piece of armor. 

Sinking into what had been his old man’s chair, he glumly offered. “Wait...Rosway. Send a messenger ahead of him back to Rosway.” 

“Thank you, Felix. I’ll have Lord Rodrigue’s personal effects delivered. You should have plenty of time during the march to go through them. This evening we will be laying him in repose. If you would like some privacy that can be arranged.”

Felix held his tongue and waited for Mercedes to leave. He had no intention of wasting his time on the dead. Others could laud his old man for saving the Boar. He would continue to search for the living. As promised, shortly after mounting a horse for the day’s eight-hour march, two saddlebags were delivered to Felix. The Crest of Fraldarius was embroidered into the leather on both.

The old man’s first saddlebag held practical items; a bag of coins, a chain with his wedding band, the shaving kit Glenn had bought their father with his first earnings after being knighted, a waterskin, a mess kit with dried rations, a sewing kit, a spare set of reigns, and Glenn’s old hunting knife. It did not surprise Felix to see the items connected to Glenn and the lack of items connected to himself. _ My old man was more likely to keep something to remind him of the Boar before me. _ ** _ He was ashamed of you as a son._ **

Felix shook his head. This was not the time to reflect on his poor relationship with the old man. This was simply a search for his old man’s signet ring and other valuable resources. Such as the saddlebags themselves which were in better condition than his own. _ At least the old man left me with something valuable. _ ** _ More than you would have left him with._ **

The second saddlebag held spare clothes and various business letters, mostly from his fellow lords. Houses Gautier, Galatea, and Charon had all written to ‘Duke Fraldarius’. Margrave Gautier insisted his troops were too occupied protecting the Sreng boarder. Count Galatea insisted his finances were too impoverished to provide monetary assistance or troops beyond his territory. The only good news seemed to come from Count Charon who pledged to end his neutrality and provide reinforcements. Letters concerning business within the duchy had been sent from his uncle Huges who served as ‘Duke Fraldarius’s’ castellan. The picture painted by the letters was bleak. After five years of constant warfare, House Fraldarius coffers and storehouses were nearing their limits. It was warned that minor lords were discontent with the prospect of losing sorely needed hands for the planting season.

The remaining letters within his old man’s saddlebag Felix did not read. They were were personal; sent to ‘Rodrigue’ from Felix’s mother. Felix made a note to have his mother’s letters sent back to Rosway so the conversations between his parents would remain private. He also made a promise to himself to write his mother before bed. While he had received sporadic letters from her, he had not written since the Pegasus Moon shortly before his birthday. _ What could I even say to her? _ ** _The Boar took Byleth so I allowed an assassin to kill the old man. _ **

Felix was about to close the saddlebag when he felt something solid enveloped in his old man’s fur-trimmed, teal cape. He thumbed over the metal clasp etched with the Crest of Fraldarius then gingerly unwrapped the cloth. A book-sized frame held a portrait of his family, painted shortly after Glenn had been knighted. For the session, they had all dressed in formalwear except for Glenn. His brother had been forced to wear his new Lionsguard armor (which had included the black iron spur that Felix had taken with him to Garreg Mach) by their mother. With a smile, Felix traced the separate faces of his mother and brother. _It’s been so long since I’ve seen either of you. Would you hate me for not forgiving the old man?_

* * *

Down a lazy stream of darkness Byleth’s consciousness continued to drift. Until over the crest of a waterfall, she plunged back into reality. As she thrashed about, something around her wrists tightened and bit into her skin. Though she was lying still, the streets of Morfis tore at her back. Years of grueling mercenary work insisted that she remain calm but genuine fear demanded that she scream for help.

"Felix!” Byleth gulped for air and let out another scream “Felix!” 

“Teach!” The darkness that had been Byleth’s vision subsided. The sky above was stripes of dark yellow and white. She was indoors. “If you can hear me calm down. I have no intention of hurting you.” 

Quickly Byleth turned her head towards the voice. “Claude?” Within her skull, a hammer slammed down. She winced. “Ugh. What the hell is going on? Untie me!”

Two unsmiling green eyes were framed by tanned skin and a golden cape. With his signature false smile, Claude spoke jovially. “No can do Teach. You were an enemy combatant. Those ropes are as much for my safety as your imprisonment. In your situation, I might try to strangle me if I went to untie you.”

Through the pounding ache in her head, the former mercenary remembered fog and the crack of her relic against Alliance flesh. Reluctantly Byleth breathed deeply, trying to calm herself.

“Are you in extreme pain?” She wasn’t. “Do you have a headache?” She did...she truly did. “Can you remember where you are?” She couldn’t. “Do you know what day it is?” She didn’t. “So your short-term memory is still affected. Your long term still seems to be intact considering you responded to Teach.” Claude bit his lip in concentration. “Do you remember what happened?”

Byleth closed her eyes, the pain within her head dulled. “Grondor Field was a chaos of fog and blood. The last thing I remember is ordering a retreat...then I’m your prisoner.” Twisting her fingers, the former mercenary searched for the knot in the rope around her wrist. “So Claude. Answer the questions you posed. Where am I? Is it still eleven eighty-six? Do you know what happened to me?”

“It is the eighth almost the ninth of the Great Tree Moon, year eleven eighty-six." _I didn't sleep too long this time._ "Imperial reinforcements have us retreating back to Derdriu from Grondor Field. As for your condition, Teach.” Claude reached down and pulled up a battered breastplate. Her battered breastplate. “After the fog cleared there was an explosion. When I found you, you were unconscious. Our surgeons stabilized you and removed the shrapnel. You’re obviously currently recovering...quite well thanks to whatever Rhea did to you. If Linhardt was here he’d be begging to track your healing progress if he noticed.”

After a medic checked and cleaned her wounds their conversation continued. Claude denied that an envoy from House Fraldarius had ever made it to the Alliance campsite. He admitted the march south had been to pressure House Ordelia into redeclaring their allegiance. Byleth denied that attacking the Alliance had been her plan all along. She admitted the march south had been impromptu in order to eliminate Edelgard. She almost asked for information on Felix but decided that was unwise. He admitted the Sword of the Creator was within the tent. She admitted that the rumors of the former prince's condition were not all false.

Claude's brow wrinkled, her friend was genuinely upset. Cautiously he untied the rope around her wrists. “I haven’t offered you any terms as a prisoner yet. However, I would like to offer you one of them now. Come back to Derdriu, take command of the Alliance. We can still do great things together, my friend.”

* * *

As the sun rose higher into the sky, Sylvain kept his eye on the outside of his friend's tent. After the combined loss of Lord Rodrigue and Byleth, Sylvain had done everything within his control to give Felix privacy to grieve. With his quick tongue, he had successfully argued that Lord Rodrigue's orders persisted up to the Great Bridge of Myrddin. With the Lance of Ruin, Sylvain had blocked officers from disturbing his friend. 

Unfortunately for Felix, the Army of House Fraldarius needed Lord Rodrigue's next of kin to succeed him as the commander sooner rather than later. After all the army was only three and a half days away from the bridge. 

With bags under his distant eyes, Felix emerged from his tent then dragged his feet in the direction of the command tent. Just as the morning before, it was clear the swordsman’s sleep had been poor. Sylvain leaned against the Lance of Ruin and chewed on his lip. Any action taken to cheer Felix up had to be mindful of his pride. It dawned on Sylvain. There was one activity that the swordsman would never refuse, even in his current state.

After a deep breath, Sylvain shouted. “Felix! I was cleared for active duty last night. Wanna spar?” Felix turned towards him but his friend’s eyes gazed at the ground. “Come on. You told me to take my training more seriously.” 

Sylvain hoped that his friend would taunt him, give him flack for prioritizing flirting instead of training as Felix had in the past. Instead, the ‘fine’ the paladin received was reluctant at best. Silently the pair walked through the campsite. A blob of blonde and royal blue thumped against Sylvain’s shoulder. For once, the prince’s voice was sullen instead of furious.

“Sylvain. I understand that you are the one who now opposes the will of the dead?”

While he had watched over Felix, Dedue had wrangled His Highness. Until now Sylvain had successfully avoided contact with the prince. According to Dedue, His Highness had barely spoken after Lord Rodrigue had died in his arms.

Sylvain raised his hands defensively. “Relax Your Highness. I was just obeying Lord Rodrigue’s final orders.”

“Lord Rodrigue would obey my orders...there is nothing for me in the north. Only my failures. Please...we need to go south. It is the only way...Lord Rodrigue, the professor they—”

A silver sword pressed against the prince’s neck. In shock, Sylvain stood with his mouth agape. On one hand, Felix had every right to be angry with Dimitri. However, the last thing the army needed was more chaos among its core of officers.

Felix barred his teeth. “If you even suggest that they demand Edelgard’s head, my hand will slip and I will strike you down. It is nonsense enough to believe your bloody path is what Glenn would demand.”

The silver sword followed the prince’s movement as he slowly lowered himself to his knees. “Glenn...my father...my friends. They all meant a great deal to me.” Discreetly Sylvain slipped behind the swordsman and waited for an opportunity to disarm him. “And they were all brutally slaughtered. I alone survived. If I do not shoulder the anguish and regret they must have felt, who will?”

“Oh! So, that’s how you choose to justify your impatience at Grondor! Your atrocities! I read the report that identified your attempted assassin; Fleche Bergliez. Maybe if you hadn’t threatened to torture her brother, my father would be alive!”

“That is what a monster does. Still, the Professor was the one to—”

“No! You don’t get to shift the blame onto her. I was there. You forced her hand; made her choose between striking you or an enemy general down. All to supposedly serve decayed corpses that will never acknowledge your loyalty!” A few droplets of blood trickled down the price’s throat when Felix withdrew the blade. “When will you wake up and realize that they don’t care?”

The prince slumped lower onto the ground, nearly prostrating himself. “You...are wrong.”

“No, I'm not.” Felix sheathed his sword and turned away. “The dead are dead, the living are living. If you refuse to respect that boundary then you are of no use to the living.”

From a leather pouch on his belt, His Highness pulled out a small golden ring. “I ensured that no other hands touched Rodrigue’s signet ring.” Felix snatched the ring and walked away. Sylvain exhaled in relief. “It might not provide you any comfort but he thought of a promise to my father in his final moments.”

Under his breath, Felix muttered as the pair continued to walk. “I will fulfill my duty to the late king. Even in your moment of death, you thought only of your mantra.”

When they reached a vacant area, Sylvain grabbed a hold of his friend’s shoulder and squeezed. “If it's any comfort. When we find her, Byleth will be proud of you for standing up to His Highness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to end on a cliffhanger but there was no way I could write more scenes this week. Not to mention I want to give other Lions their due. There will be fluff at the end if the tunnel.


	15. Until We Meet Again (Great Tree Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ripples of Grondor Field continue

A droplet of water landed upon the bridge of Byleth’s nose. As her eyes opened bare tree branches crept by the overcast sky above. After adjusting the patterned beige pants and puffy white button-up that Claude had lent her, she braced herself for nausea and sat up in the bed of the moving cart. Nausea never came but there was still a dull ache in her back and her thighs, likely from where the shrapnel had embedded itself the deepest. 

Another drop of rain landed on the crown of her head. “Lysithea, is there a spare cloak somewhere?” With ‘Duke von Reigan’ often flying with the vanguard of his army, it was Lysithea who cared for her on the marches. “I don’t exactly have anything spare to wear if Claude’s clothes get soaked.”

“Sorry, my friend.” From the passenger seat of the cart, Claude turned. “But with you stabilized, Lysithea is tending to our other wounded. You’re stuck with Nurse von Riegan today.” Her friend gave his signature wink then began his usual evaluation of her condition. “What is your current pain level?” With whatever medication Claude had concocted, it was manageable. “Good. Do you know what day it is?” It was the ninth of the Great Tree Moon. “Good, good. Your memory seems intact. I’ll see what I can do about a cloak. If you still have a headache, go back to sleep. We’ve only marched about four hours today.”

With a small smile, she cheekily retorted. “My only headache is sitting in the passenger seat of the cart.” 

“Teach!” Dramatically, Claude clutched at his chest then slumped across the wood barrier between them. “And after I saved your life and dressed you in my own clothes!” Though she tightened her lips, a snigger escaped. With a genuine smile, her friend went on. “It’s good to have you back and I don’t just mean as a potential asset. How about you and I break out a game tonight. What do you say? It’ll be almost like old times” _ Just like old times. _

During her time at the academy, Byleth had been the academic advisor to the Blue Lions. In theory, she had two tasks. First, during the academic week, she guided her students through the complicated certification process. This was done mostly by ensuring they were taking the proper classes and seminars offered. Second, during the monthly missions, she was tasked with placing together a battle plan that would ensure her charges were not seriously injured. During the daily hour of homeroom, Byleth’s actual advising was often more emotional than academic. Of course, her post as a professor had not been only to care for the future of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. She was also placed in charge of two curriculums; tactics, and swordsmanship. It was in those tactical lectures that Byleth became familiar with the students from the remaining two houses...which included Claude von Riegan.

Where most students silently took notes at their seats, the future duke actively questioned her line of thought. Originally Byleth had offered to tutor him (as she had for Dimitri) to avoid his constant interruptions. After a few short weeks, her pupil made a counteroffer which stuck until the day before the failed defense of Garreg Mach. With Dimitri, the tactics tutoring took place in the Blue Lions Classroom with charts, maps, and blocks. With Claude, the tutoring took place in taverns with cards, alcohol, and her personal experiences of battle.

Byleth skeptically raised her eyebrow. “And just like old times, you’ll pry what secrets you can from me without revealing your own. We could play that game until we arrive at Derdriu...or we can actually try to end this war.”

A toothy grin that only meant trouble formed across his face. “You’ve had time to consider my offer then?”

Her swordsman’s hurt amber eyes had entered her mind frequently whenever she debated her options. However, it was the single menacing eye of the mad prince that pushed her decision. Grondor Field had made one fact abundantly clear; there were no tactics in Fódlan that could fully account for a madman in command. For the moment her actual decision didn’t matter. For now, there was a battle of wits to be waged against her fearsome opponent. Whoever won, would be able to dictate the terms of the inevitable alliance between the Alliance and the Kingdom. Unfortunately, behind his fake smiles and nonchalant attitude, Claude von Riegan was a cunning tactician who used his silver tongue to further his ambitions. Worse, the man possessed the ability to read her like an open book. 

Taking a deep breath, Byleth crossed her arms and hardened her expression into neutrality. “I have. It’s curious that for five years, until House Gloucester rejoined the Alliance, you took no action against the Empire. I suspect that while the Kingdom was physically fighting, you were diplomatically fighting the rest of the roundtable for control over the Alliance. After five years they still deem you an outsider.”

Byleth never considered her friend an outsider. Perhaps she was biased. Having spent little of her life in Fódlan, she was an outsider herself. It always astounded those around Byleth how inadequate her knowledge of the continent's customs was. Regardless, by the end of the semester, Byleth had carved out a place of prestige for herself at Garreg Mach. In the past, Claude had admitted he schemed to gain her crest and relic for his ambitions. Now he likey needed her influence as the temporary head of the Church of Seiros. 

Unshakeable, Duke von Riegan maintained his wide smile and friendly tone. “Observant as ever. Still, with Count Gloucester’s newfound allegiance, the Alliance is in a more favorable position than the crumbling Kingdom. It’s no secret that their forces amount to little more than a rebellion. In the North, the Dukedom of Faerghus holds the cards.”

“And if Cornelia were to break through House Galatea it would expose House Fraldarius.” With a knowing look in his eyes, the schemer raised his eyebrow. “And when House Fraldarius falls it will spell the end of the rebels. Afterward, the Empire will pincer the Alliance from the north and south. Fódlan is in a delicate state of balance. Without the Kingdom, the Alliance will fall...and vice versa. Which is why instead of poaching the enemy tactician—”

“The roundtable will be _thrilled _when I propose we ally with the army who _accidentally _attacked us. An ally who instead of taking back its own capital, marched south on a campaign to Enbarr.”

“The Duke of Fraldarius wanted to take Fhirdiad but—” Byleth glanced at the cart’s driver than back to the schemer. Her neutral expression broke into a frown. Once again the ill prince’s actions proved a hindrance to the war’s efforts. With Dimitri at the helm, the Kingdom was an unstable ally. She had lost the argument and the upper hand during negotiations. “I won’t accept terms where my blade is turned against the Kingdom.

Claude’s eyes softened, he teased. “You mean you won’t accept terms where your blade is turned against Felix.” The rain that continued to drizzle from the sky seemed to wash away the tension between the pair. “But we can talk about why he’s the fourth pupil you’ve ever addressed by their first name later. For now my friend, you need that cloak before it starts pouring.” 

Byleth nodded then closed her eyes to rest. In an alliance let alone in a friendship, there was no room for personal grudges simply because someone lost a debate. At the end of the day, Clade had only stated the facts in an effort to protect his people and his ambitions. She had done the same herself. While she had been asleep for five years Dimitri had changed for the worse, he was now dangerous and uncaring towards his subordinates. Meanwhile, from what she had witnessed Claude was still the scheming but caring leader she befriended at the academy. As long as that was the man she was negotiating with, she could hold onto some hope.

* * *

The soothing melody that Byleth had hummed at the river soothed Felix as the faint scent of the soap she had used that day whiffed by his nose. In the privacy of the command tent, he had opened one of the tactician’s saddlebag in the hope of finding her tactical documents. However, the first bag had contained her clothes and personal items.

Through his nose, Felix inhaled deeply and closed his eyes searching for her natural scent though he suspected it would be long gone by now. 

“Uh, Felix.” Felix’s eyes shot wide open at the sound of Sylvain’s voice. “I know you miss Byleth but if anyone else walked in, you would have looked like a creep.”

Clenching his jaw, Felix securely shut the saddlebag then glared at his friend. "I know if she was here, Byleth would recommend I take Fhirdiad. I was just hoping to find her thoughts on how to approach it within her belongings." When the swordsman noticed a plate in the paladin's hands, he suspiciously asked. “What do you have with you?”

“Glad you asked!" A plate of skewered meat was placed on the table in front of Felix. "Gronder Meat Skewers! You loved this dish while we were at the academy. Mercedes came up with the idea. Ashe hunted the fox, and Dedue seasoned the meat, supervised Annette when she aged it, and of course cooked it so none of us burnt the campsite down.” 

The sharp but slightly musky smell of peppercorns drifted from the plate. Felix sunk his teeth into the lean meat and smiled at the slightly spicy flavor. For once memories of his father or Byleth were not triggered. His mind only savored the meal. As he chewed away Sylvain sat in the chair to his left and opened the second saddlebag. In most circumstances, Felix would have been offended by the assistance. Now, decisions he made as a commander could cost countless lives or even the war itself. Even without the added pressure he often felt weighed down by a gnawing sadness.

Clenching his eyes shut, Felix focused on the individual bites of food instead of his internal thoughts.

A metallic _ting _echoed across the pine table. 

From the nearly empty plate, Felix looked up to investigate the disturbance. Upon the pine table, like a toy top, a silver band gyrated. Between his fingers, he took the ring and slowly turned it, allowing what was left of the day’s light to dance upon the silver metal and amethyst gemstones set into the band. ** _A ring from a suitor? _ **

Pressing the ring into his fist, Felix cursed the voice in his head. The Blade Breaker. The ring had probably been a past gift from Byleth’s father. It made sense that she would keep a reminder of him in the same way that he kept the black iron spur as a reminder of Glenn.

From under his black turtleneck, Felix grabbed the silver chain around his neck and unclasped it. With his old man’s wedding band on his corpse, the chain only held the duke’s gold signet ring. Until the signet ring could be properly disposed of it needed protection. After all, the stamp was seen as far more authentic than a signature. Now there was a second ring to protect. At least until it could be reunited with its owner. 

“Why haven’t our scouts made contact with the Alliance yet?” He wondered aloud while stringing the chain through Byleth’s silver band. 

With his nose buried in a report, Sylvain only shrugged. “According to the scouts, we never learned where the Alliance crossed the Oghma Mountains. There is just too much area for them to cover. Is your here note about high taxes in the Faerghus Dukedom relevant or a throwaway?”

Tucking the chain under his shirt, Felix explained. “Someone thought it was odd that Edelgard was wringing money from territories. I’m no tactician but...that action would only antagonize commoners into open rebellion. Also, all taxes eventually trickle up to Fhirdiad. By taking the capital we would take its vaults...which would refresh our coffers.”

Through the layers of fabric, Felix pressed Byleth’s ring against his chest and prepared himself mentally for a long evening. The swordsman never believed in luck. His constant ‘good luck’ pecks were just his desire to see Byleth safe. But if there was such a thing as luck. If each of those pecks ever added up to anything, he hoped it would be now. If there was such a thing as luck she would be...somewhat safe in the Alliance’s custody. Still, if his worst fear was realized; If Byleth was in the Empire’s custody, he would be no better than the Boar if he blindly rushed to Enbarr without the proper preparations.

* * *

By lantern light in the Riegan command tent, Byleth reached towards the upturned card next to the stock deck. Across the round pine command table, her sole opponent grinned and took a sip of spiced Almaryan wine. The wine she had been denied. According to Claude, the careful mixture of willow bark and poppy sap would react poorly to alcohol. 

After discarding a card, Byleth broke her neutral expression and laid down the ten cards in her hand. “That’s gin, Claude. I expect that promised bottle of wine in a saddlebag before I fly to Fhirdiad.”

Without Duke Fraldarius at the negotiation table, an alliance had only tentatively been set between the Knights of Seiros and the Alliance. With so many moving parts, there were only three certainties. First, the Riegan Army would return to Derdriu to recover their massive losses from Grondor Field. Second, Claude and herself would fly to the Great Bridge of Myrddin to (hopefully) intercept and negotiate with Duke Fraldarius. Third, regardless of where the Fraldarius Army marched, the Knights of Seiros would set a siege upon Fhirdiad. Tentatively, after the capital was retaken and Knights of Seiros were reorganized, Byleth would be expected to assist the Alliance in the scheming of Fort Merceus.

Byleth was aware that her body needed rest. Claude, in fact, had suggested that she come to Derdriu for a week to recover before flying to Fhirdiad. She declined. Regrettably, the war was in too delicate of a position for rest to be an option.

“Have I ever been one to renege on a wager?” With a smile in his eyes, Claude laughed. “I assume you plan on sharing the bottle with Felix once Fhirdiad is retaken?” Heat rushed into Byleth’s cheeks but she remained silent. “Come on Teach, before Felix you only called three of us by our given names. Sylvain and I whenever we drank with you, and Dimitri after he practically begged you to stop calling him ‘Your Highness’. Did you even realize you called Felix by his given name in your letters to me?”

Byleth lowered her forehead onto the table. “No...I didn’t realize. I’ll need to be more careful until the war is over. If you see Felix, please don’t antagonize him.”

“As if I would ever antagonize Felix...without Sylvain.” When Byleth glared at him, Claude placed his arms behind his head. “But seriously my friend, as long as Felix treats you well, I am happy for you.” Claude bit his lip. “He is treating you well...right?”

For a few moments, she considered her friend’s question. “Felix has been my rock without a single complaint. He's not a romantic in the same vein Sylvain is infamous for." Carefully Byleth considered her words. "But to me...he tries...in his own way. Given our circumstances, that is about as well treated as I can hope for.” Once Byleth had regained consciousness, her days among the Alliance had been mostly dreamless slumbers with periods of hazy alertness. It wasn’t until this morning that her mind had true clarity. Unlike her swordsman. “I’m probably worrying him sick. He’s going to give me an earful on my _reckless behavior_ but...I’m still eager to see him again.”

“Then I’ll look forward to having you both in Derdriu soon under...better circumstances.” Claude swished the wine in his goblet, seemingly deep in thought. “Hey Teach, I still have Jeralt’s journal with me. I didn’t want you to think I was withholding it as part of some scheme.”

Curious, Byleth raised her eyebrow. In the few days that she had held possession of the journal, it seemed innocuous. More of a guide on how to court her mother authored by her father than a book filled with church scandals. “Did you ever find the dirt on the Church of Seiros or Rhea you were after?”

“No. But trusting Rhea still seems like a bad idea. I’ll pack Jeralt’s journal along with that bottle. We’ll also need to find you something else to wear. I don’t want Felix’s sword through my gut because of a misunderstanding.” Claude began to shuffle the cards on the table together. “Alright Teach, we need another set of wagers. When I win; You give me a full briefing on what has occurred between yourself and the sharp-tongued swordsman.”

“Okay. And when I take another game, I want more stories from your childhood.” Byleth cut the deck and shifted into a neutral expression. With a nod from Claude, the terms of a different kind of battle were set.

* * *

Beads of sweat slid down Felix’s back as he struck one of the many stuffed dummies available with a wooden training sword. The boy looked down at his feet, checking to ensure his stance was correct. Satisfied with his practice, he placed the sword back onto its rack and leaned against the wall near the extinguished fireplace.

The oaken doors cracked open. Felix tried to hide.

“Felix!” The stern voice of his father meant Felix was in store for a lecture. “Felix! Are you aware your tutors have been searching the castle for you all this afternoon? While strengthening yourself is essential, it must be in a well-rounded manner. Your growth in strength must be mental as well as physical.” 

Rolling his eyes, Felix stood his ground. “Come on old—” His voice cracked. As his face grew hot, the boy coughed before continuing. “I understand studying combat, mathematics, geography, and law. I even understand the need to study Almaryan. But violin?"

Through Felix's messy bun, his father ruffed his hand. "Well rounded also means well cultured. You'll understand one day when you want to court—"

The oaken door flew open and crashed against the wall. "Your Grace!” Tears streamed down the face of his father’s personal steward as the man bowed. “An envoy arrived from…” The steward sobbed. "Duscar...His Majesty...Master Glenn...something terrible has occurred!” From behind the steward, a maid entered, carrying a steel breastplate. “This is all that was returned of the young master.”

Felix sunk onto the floor and buried his face into his knees. He watched as his father took the armor, cradling it within his arms. “My...boy.” He sniffled. “What have those...monsters? What...of Lamb?”

The steward wiped his eyes and shook his head. “Only His Highness seems to have survived the massacre. He awaits you in your study. Mutters repeatedly how Master Glenn hid him away then...”

His old man lowered his head and uttered. "Then...he died...like a true knight." 

Felix clenched his fists. Lunging at the old fool, the boy struck his father’s face. Through a swollen eye, his old man should have stared at him in shocked silence. Instead, he crumpled to the ground. 

Reaching out towards his father, Felix found a short, bloodied dagger clenched within his fist.

* * *

Felix’s eyes snapped open. In the faint moonlight, his eyes darted around the surrounding area. A nightmare. He knew what he had witnessed was only a painful but true memory twisted into a nightmare. _ My old man chose death. His blood is not on my hands. _ ** _You could have stopped the assassin. You could have saved your father. _ ** _ I won’t mourn the man who rejected me. _ ** _You rejected him, ever since that afternoon...you rejected him._ **

Within his bedroll, Felix shifted about to find a comfortable position. With each turn, he felt the duke’s signet ring jostle against his chest. 

What felt like hours passed by. Continuously Felix tossed and turned but slumber never came. Into the night air, Felix shuffled. His fatigued steps brought him to the candlelit medical tent. Amid the low groans of the wounded and the faint stench of copper, Annette assisted the medic on duty. Wrapping his cloak tighter around his body, Felix sat on an empty cot and rubbed his eyes.

The back of a silken glove pressed against his forehead. “Felix is everything...” Annette removed her hand and yawned into her fist. “Sorry. Is everything okay?” 

Sullenly Felix shook his head. He was not okay. Sleep had been difficult to come by after Grondor Field but he had been able to work his body to the point of exhaustion. Tonight his body already felt shackled to the ground yet his mind refused to rest. Groggily, he conceded. “Tired...can’t sleep.”

Annette placed her finger upon her lip and furrowed her eyebrows. “I think when we were at the academy Manuela prescribed His Highness chamomile tea for insomnia.” As if the warlock sensed his hesitation of drinking the same blend as the Boar, she deflected. “I think Mercedes mentioned once that lavender blend has the same effect. You should go back to your tent, if we have either blend in stock I’ll brew it for you and deliver it.”

After Felix settled back into his tent it only took a few minutes for Annette to join him. Admittedly, he gave the notoriously clumsy woman a side glance when she entered. Next to him and warlock sat with a wide smile and safely handed the teacup over. He sniffed the steaming liquid and wrinkled his nose. The tea’s scent was sweet and floral. It nearly reminded him of the soap which he had smelt on Byleth’s clothes but lacked an edge of spice to it. Felix wasn’t sure if he needed to sleep enough to drink soap.

Annette expectantly stared at him. Likely waiting for her ‘patient’ to drink what had been prescribed. Holding his nose, Felix took a gulp and tried to ignore the sweet, citrusy flavor. 

“If there is anything else you need, I’m your girl!” Annette insisted with a worn but wide smile. 

It bizarrely reassured Felix that despite the horrific war, Annette somehow remained her cheerful self. Even when they were students at Garreg Mach she was the same, taking each misstep, failure, and hardship with a smile. Even when that hardship was her deadbeat of a father who abandoned both her and her mother. _ Then again my old man abandoned my mother at the end._

“If Gustave had died instead of my old man, would you hate him?” The words spilled out of his mouth chilling the mood. Annette opened and shut her mouth once then twice. He had obviously hit a sore spot with his question. Bringing the overly sweet liquid to his lips, Felix nervously took a gulp.

“I...I don’t know.” She admitted with a bowed head. “Even when father left us, I couldn't hate him." Around his shoulders, Annette wrapped her arms and lightly squeezed. Felix sunk against her much smaller frame. “Sorry, Felix I know that wasn’t helpful. I can't imagine what you're going through."

"I don't know how to feel about my old man. Everyone expects me to mourn, wail, and gnash my teeth over him. But I'm not even sure how to begin to forgive him. If I even want to forgive him."

“I wish I could make you smile with an easy answer.” Annette whispered into his hair “But there isn’t one. I know that Mercie says grief and mourning are different things. That grief is an internal conflict while mourning is one external expression of it. Maybe you don’t need to mourn Lord Rodrigue. But I think losing him caused you grief?” The hold around his neck loosened. Felix wobbled, nearly spilling the remaining tea as Annette pushed off of him. “Sorry! I’m bad at this. I should go. Sorry!” She blurted out and scurried towards the exit of his tent.

“You were fine.” Felix insisted as he placed the empty teacup on the ground then slid back into his bedroll. “Sing for me?” Felix knew Annette would ask him what song he wanted to hear. He wondered what the odds were that the warlock would know the foreign tavern song Byleth had sung. Considering he wasn’t even sure of the song’s name it was a longshot but he was curious. “Do you know a song about a mage who kills her unfaithful fiancé?”

“Um...I’m not sure a song like that would calm you down. Not that I’ve heard anything like your description. Oh!” She clapped her hands together. “We could check Fhirdiad's library when we take it back!" As if realizing how loud her ruckus was, Annette lowered her voice. "Sorry. How about for now I just sing you a simple lullaby."

* * *

Another half-day of marching passed before an envoy from House Gloucester approached the Fraldarius Army. Felix was informed that she asked after his father and bore a letter from Duke von Riegan. Using the duke’s signet ring as proof of the man’s absence, the swordsman intercepted the letter. The leaders of the Alliance and the Knights of Seiros requested an audience with Duke Fraldarius. They awaited his arrival at the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Felix stared at Byleth’s signature perhaps longer than necessary. It looked genuine but then again Claude von Riegan was a schemer. _ Would he stoop so low to forge her signature? _ ** _That is what people like him do; take advantage of people like you. _ ** _ Byleth has trust in Claude. _ ** _ You would trust your enemy before your own father? _ ** _ I trust Byleth before my old man. _

Immediately upon securing both his and Byleth’s saddlebags onto pegasi, Felix ordered the battalion to take flight. While by foot it would take the remainder of the day followed by another half-day to reach the bridge, by flight the trip took hours. 

The sun was just beginning to paint the sky orange as the battalion landed. Deliberately he denied his desire to shove through the crowds to quickly reach the tower he’d been directed towards. His primary purpose was to bring Byleth back. If Claude knew just how much their former professor meant to him, just how much he would give away for her...the schemer would take advantage of that.

Felix pushed open the heavy door. As Byleth’s laughter spilled out into the evening air, his heart began to pound. She was alive, she was safe, and she was happy. Two apple red cheeks framed her small but genuine smile when their eyes met. When Claude coughed Felix was reminded that he and Byleth were not alone.

“Lorenz,” The Alliance leader stood from his chair. “It appears our guests have arrived. We should go. It would not be proper for us to ignore the Duke of Fraldarius.” 

Even as Claude passed him with a wink, Felix refused to correct his assumption. The news of his old man’s death was a hindrance to a happy reunion. The moment Byleth learned of it, she would no doubt slip into a tactician's mindset. For now, everyone could assume his old man lived so he could steal a few moments of happiness. 

The door closed, allowing their nightly ritual to begin in the privacy of the stone tower. Byleth rose from her chair. Warmth pooled in Felix’s gut. Instead of the armor which he had mapped out, black fabric trimmed with pink draped down to Byleth’s ankles. Every step forward her long creamy legs were exposed by slits down the sides of the dress. 

With his teeth, Felix eagerly tore off his gloves and stuffed them into his belt. Around his neck, Byleth wrapped her arms while his arms secured their frames together around her lower back. Underneath the fabric, he felt additional material wrapped around her back. Bandages. In his mind’s eye, Byleth again lay face down at Grondor Field, her armor riddled with shrapnel. He shuddered and burrowed his nose into her hair.

Circles were soothingly rubbed into the back of his neck. "I'll be okay. Claude said I was caught by a blast. He and my armor saved my life.” _ I know. I saw what happened. I failed you. I didn’t stop Hubert from hurting you. _

The words formed on the tip of his tongue but could not be uttered. There was so much to be said. So many burdens he knew she would willingly help him shoulder. Gently he brought their lips together. “I missed you.” Felix murmured the understatement then kissed her again. “I knew you were alive. But I’m glad you’re safe.” 

Against his cheek, Byleth brushed her nose and assured him. “I missed you too.” Felix reclaimed her cheek next followed by her nose. “I’m sorry I couldn't come back sooner.” 

Yet again he kissed her lips to make up for the nights they had lost. Enveloped within a mutual embrace, time slowed for Felix.

Eventually, when Byleth loosened her hold around his neck a low, frustrated whine vibrated in Felix’s throat. The discontent was temporary. Calloused fingers ran over his cheeks and down his jaw. Though his skin began to itch her touch was worth the mild discomfort. 

“I had tough mornings without you around.” He admitted. “I guess shaving fell by the wayside somehow. If you like it, enjoy it while it lasts. I’m shaving after a bath.” 

“I don’t mind the stubble. Are you that worried about looking like your father?” Felix clenched his jaw though he knew Byleth had meant only to tease him. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Too soon for his liking, she pulled away from him. Anytime soon was going to be too soon. “But speaking of His Grace we should probably join him and the others for dinner. I can only assume that House Gloucester will be attempting to impress Duke Fraldarius.”

Grasping her wrist tightly Felix snarled “My old man is dead.”

Predictably Felix nearly heard the gears in Byleth’s head turn as her green eyes widened under furrowed brows. “What? How? Goddess, Felix.” Earlier when she had wrapped her arms around his neck it had been joyful and gentle. This time it was desperate, almost suffocating.

“The Boar attracted an assassin. My old man sacrificed himself.” Felix knew the question Byleth would ask next and cut it off. “The Lance of Ruin ran them through so their identity doesn't matter.” That was a lie. Worse he knew that the tactician would search through the reports until she found the truth. “Damnable woman.” He seethed. “Fleche von Bergliez, Caspar’s aunt, was the failed assassin.” Within his arms, he felt her tense up when she connected the dots together. 

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” The continual pleas for forgiveness into his chest were genuine but frustrated him.

“Be sorry that you went missing again. Be sorry that I missed you. Be sorry that you weren't there when I needed you. Do not be sorry for anything involving my old man. He willingly chose his fate. Abandoned myself...again and my mother to fulfill an oath to a corpse.”

Felix could not blame the tactician for the long silence that passed. The death of Duke Fraldarius probably caused fires that Felix was unaware of. Surely Byleth was mentally plotting how to extinguish them.

Finally, the tactician raised her head and looked into his eyes “Claude and I arrived by wyvern yesterday so my rider should be fresh. I want you on that wyvern tomorrow morning. Go home, Felix.” Felix sputtered out half-formed protests but was rebuked. “I'm not taking no as an answer. Hate me if you need to. But I would rather you hate me now than regret staying later. I’ll take care of affairs here and join you when I can.” Gripping his shoulders firmly, Byleth kissed him. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be a little more clear what the fluff at the end of the tunnel will be. Also, poor Lorenz who was unknowingly pulled on a wild goose chase because Claude wanted to let Byleth have time alone with Felix.
> 
> Note to self: It is the 11th of the Great Tree Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter


	16. The Pearl of Faerghus (Great Tree Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in years, Felix returns to where he grew up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of a jacket, I will be calling Felix's outer layer a surcoat. The definition and images I've found suggest that it would be a better word! Note that a surcoat would usually be worn over metal armor but I can appreciate why the artists would showcase Felix's armor on the outside.  
Surcoat: A sleeveless garment worn as part of the insignia of an order of knighthood.

Digging her fingers into the back of Felix’s surcoat, Byleth groaned when his lips which had been trailing up her neck lingered below her ear. A dull ache spread through her lower back as she took a guided step backward and was gently pressed against a wooden door. 

After the swordsman’s saddlebags and the former mercenary's broken armor had been loaded onto a wyvern, the pair had secluded themselves for a private farewell. While Byleth had intended their goodbye to be simple, it appeared that Felix had other plans.

“I don’t need to leave Byleth. I could stay beside you.” Felix insisted against her dampened skin, sending a shudder up her spine. Her swordsman pulled away, his amber eyes were downcast. “The dead are dead. My old man can’t care if I go home. I need to stay beside you.”

Felix Hugo Fraldarius was not a man of poetry. If he ever sang a ballad of undying love, Byleth would be concerned. Respect. Trust. Protection. Those were how her swordsman expressed his affection. It might have been projection but when he said ‘I need to stay beside you’ she heard an underlying ‘I love you’. Even without the emotion of love between them, the former mercenary still wanted what was best for the swordsman. Even if it didn’t necessarily make him happy.

Gently she lifted her head until their gazes met. “I love you too.” Byleth knew the smile on the edge of his lips and brush of pink on his cheeks would not last. “But I don’t think you understand. I'm not sending you home for the dead. When my father passed away. Do you remember what you did when I was grieving?” 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Nothing, I kept my distance. I had no idea how to help other than an offer to spar you.” He admitted before gripping her hands. "I was seventeen. I’m different now. If your father died today I would be beside you.”

“So you should be beside your family. I’m sure they need your support." She kissed his forehead to console him. 'When my business is done; when I'm sure I'm not going to have to leave you suddenly. I’ll have your back in whatever way you need.” 

"Damnable woman." He snapped back but gave no further response after she waited on one. That was a sign that Felix had accepted his departure. 

The timing of recent events had been terrible. Their reunion had not lasted long nor held any privacy once Lorenz and Claude had caught wind of the death of Duke Fraldarius. Condolences had been offered by both men then the topic of conversation had quickly shifted to the ever-looming war. 

“I took something that belongs to you." From underneath his turtleneck, Felix pulled out a silver chain and unclasped it. “You disappeared, I thought it might be months not days until I saw you again. I saw it as a way to keep you as close as I could.” Within his outstretched palm, he held two rings. While the gold ring was unfamiliar, Byeth instantly recognized the silver ring. Her eyes widened. "I assume it was a gift from your father. Take it back."

“That wedding ring belonged...to my mother.” The words slowly formed as Byleth considered what to tell Felix. “Papa passed it down to me.” She purposely neglected to mention her father’s desire that she gift the ring to someone who she loved as much as Jeralt had loved her mother. Her father’s instruction was not a secret per se but it was something she had no intention of divulging to Felix. All the revelation would do is embarrass him. “If you need something to remind you of me. I could give you papa’s journal?”

As firmly as Felix placed the silver ring into her hand, he stated. “I don’t deserve more secrets until I’ve told you my own. And I have nothing else to give you in return." 

From her saddlebag filled with documents, she retrieved the book. “You know the only secret this journal holds. Claude studied this for years and found nothing. If you can find something scandalous in a week, I'll be impressed with you. You'll probably find the first third sappy but Claude said there are stories of our mercenary work." With the ring in her grip, Byleth lifted her hand and rubbed Felix’s smooth jaw with her thumb. “Let me help distract you from whatever comes until I can join you again. I love you.”

Against the back of her head, Felix placed his hand and pressed their foreheads together. He nodded against her skin. “I’ll be waiting. Stay safe.” 

Between the two, one final kiss was shared and reluctantly broken. When the door opened, they were no longer Felix and Byleth but two allied commanders. Her swordsman’s eyes hardened and the lips that had been pressed against hers morphed into his signature scowl. A final verbal goodbye was shared before the two went their separate ways.

* * *

The downpour of rain dripped down the monster's tangled blonde locks and soaked the heavy fur that he wore. In the days which followed Grondor Field, the dead had been relentless. Even when they were not themselves present, the monster saw their vengeful eyes in the soldiers around him. Heard them even though their lips were not present. ** _You failed to kill the woman. You lost the Shield of Faerghus. Failure. Unfit for rule._ **

Another father had been lost. It was only a matter of time until Rodrigue appeared as a ghost demanding atrocities alongside Glenn. To make matters worse no one seemed to listen to his pleas to continue their success at Grondor to Enbarr. Felix had written orders to march to siege Fhirdiad.

A small hooded figure stepped in front of his path. Before the monster knocked them away, the Sword of the Creator was recognized. His fellow monster, the demon who pretended to be a human, dared to look directly into his lone eye. 

“I require nothing of you.” The monster snarled and stepped forward, threatening to knock the demon over. “You were of no assistance when that woman was within our grasp. Get out of my way. Now.”

The demon dared to hold her ground, crossing her arms. “No. We’re talking about your illness, your misplaced responsibility,** now**. It has hindered the war effort at every turn.” Droplets of rain dripped from the tip of her nose. “Do you really think taking Enbarr will stop your illness or appease the dead?”

Illness. The demon constantly called what the monster witnessed on a near-daily basis an illness. As if the dead would just loosen their hold on his life if one of them asked.

“Silence.” The monster rumbled alongside the thunder in the black sky. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You cannot see the dead. You have never heard their incessant demands for revenge. Their Hatred. Their Regret. For nine years I have lived for them and shouldered the burdens they left me. My path has always been for them...must continue to be for them.”

With tenderness in her eyes, the demon shook her head. How she dared to look at him in that manner after everything the monster had done in the past was beyond his understanding. “Trust me, you’re wrong. There is never only one path. I’m sure one of them brings my star pupil back. I was happy to fight for him. I need him to fight for me now.” 

** _The demon means to tell you to move on. That is nonsense._ ** From behind the demon the dead reached over her and latched onto his armor. ** _ The living and their logic matter not. We suffer while that woman lives._ **

The monster stared up and allowed the rain to soak his face. "Trust you? Fight for you? You seem to have all the answers. How?"** _ You cannot trust her. The demon wants you to forget about us. Do our deaths no longer matter to you?_ ** "Tell me, Professor." Looking into the abyss of her eyes, the monster pled. "Please tell me." ** _Ignore the demon or take her head. She stands in the way of your vengeance. She stands in the way of our peace. You will never take that woman’s head while she lives._ ** "How do I silence their desperate pleas? How do I—" ** _We will never relent as long as we suffer. _ **"How do I save them?"

As the demon reached out and placed her hands on his pauldrons the dead fled from her touch. “You cannot save the dead. You can only save yourself.” She further closed the gap between them, her upper arms rested upon his breastplate. “Live for yourself and what you believe in." The monster nearly laughed, Rodrigue had said something similar before he died. "If you must live for the dead, live for their pride in you instead of their vengeance.” 

"As a murderous monster, could I truly hope for such life? As the sole survivor from that tragedy Do I have the right to live for myself?" 

"Everyone has that right. Your first step should be to forgive yourself." The sky overhead again rumbled as the demon, his professor, held out her hand. "Let's get out of the storm Your Highness. We have much to discuss if you are willing."

The monster started at his professor's outreached hand. He was frightened to grasp it but could not fathom why. Perhaps because it meant taking a terrifying step forward. Trepidly he reached out and touched her skin with his fingers. When her hand was enveloped within his own heat radiated off her pruned skin. "Your hands are so warm." He remarked in disbelief. "Have they always been?"

* * *

Constructed before Kyphon lived, Castle Rosway served as the seat of power for House Fraldarius and protected the adjacent harbor city of the same name. As Felix exited the stables and began to cross the cobblestone courtyard, the keep’s ancient sandstone walls towered over him. Around him, servants dressed in mourning black scurried with their heads lowered. At the gatehouse into the inner courtyard, his uncle, Hughes Fraldarius, stood with his arms behind his back. Though the younger of the two brothers, Hughes had aged more rapidly since Felix had seen him last. Dark circles lay under his cerulean eyes while his hair held long streaks of silver alongside the indigo. 

“Felix.” Hughes greeted him with a nod. “You surprised us all when we received word of your return. Not that it is unwelcome. I know you and Rod haven’t seen eye to eye in years. Your mother will be happy to see you unharmed if you wish to see her before settling into your quarters.”

Felix nodded in agreement. With his belongings being taken care of by, the only other business he had for the day was with the blacksmith. A servant would, of course, deliver the former mercenary’s battered armor. However, he wanted to ensure that its repair held priority over work less essential to the war. 

While the outer courtyard of the keep was entirely cobblestone, the inner courtyard only had a few paths of it. Otherwise, in the warmer months, it was covered in greenery. The two men traveled deeper into the dormant garden. It was only after the inner gatehouse was a ways behind them that Felix inquired. “And my mother is?”

His uncle looked into the sky as if the words he needed hovered above him. “I’m not sure your mother slept the night that news of Rod arrived. At least that is what her maids reported. She’s confided herself between her chamber and drawing room since then. As I said before, your presence here will give her a distraction for a time.”

Felix nearly retorted with the truth. Had Byleth not placed her foot down he would still be on the campaign to Fhirdiad. It wasn’t that he had no desire to assist his family but that he was uncomfortable with it. That damnable woman was always pushing his boundaries. At least she had promised to join him as soon as she was able. A delicate question formed within his mind. He only gave it voice once a careful survey confirmed the two Fraldarius men were alone.

“Hughes, has your crest ever reacted?” Out of the entire Fraldarius bloodline, his uncle was the only relative who held no disdain against Felix for his controversial opinions. If there was anyone he could talk to about his experience at Grondor Field, Hughes was it.

His uncle raised his eyebrow and sighed deeply. “I’ve never been near the royal family during a crisis.” Cerulean eyes darted around the garden before Hughes under his breath muttered. “Fortunately. If this is about the attack on His Highness—”

“This has nothing to do with the Boar. My crest triggered for...” 

Felix debated what to address Byleth as. He refused to call her his former professor. Enough soldiers, even those she had not taught addressed her that way. Byleth was more than a former mercenary, more than an ally, and more than a sparring partner. She was the Commander of the Knights of Seiros and temporary Archbishop but the latter was certainly not what she would want to be addressed by.

Though inadequate, Felix settled on: “A very close friend. She has no Blaiddyd blood as far as I’m aware. There must be something in our records that explains what happened. This at least seems like something Byleth should be aware of. Right?”

So easily had her name slipped from his lips, that it took Felix a moment to realize he had uttered it by accident. The tips of his ears became hot. He hoped that Hughes would not catch on and connect the dots but the chuckle beside him indicated otherwise. 

“So your crest saved this _ close friend_, Byleth.” In no mood to explain his failure, Felix sourly glared. Hughes shook his head in response. “I’ve never heard of a situation such as yours. Obviously you are free to search for an answer yourself. Bear in mind, however, that much of the information on the original ten elites have been lost to time. It is a fact that we’re unsure of why we are even connected to House Blaiddyd so closely. As for your Byleth.” The hotter Felix’s felt the louder his uncle’s laugh became. “At some point my dear nephew, you have to ask yourself. Is this Byleth a fling? Or is she a Fraldarius?”

Felix opened his mouth to protest but scowled instead. As castellan, Hughes certainly had his hands full with the management of the duchy. However, there was no way he could understand how little time there was to think of anything other than one’s survival on the front lines. Felix reflected on Hughes’s advice. His uncle had meant well but it did not stop Felix from becoming irritated by his words. _A fling or a Fraldarius?_ _You don’t even know her Hughes. A fling...like I would just discard her after the war. _

The two men continued their chatter on a more casual scale as they trekked ahead. The Great Hall was just as dreary as the inner courtyard. While the garden’s reason was the season, the Great Hall had been stripped of all colors. Felix suspected that the castle’s mirrors and artwork had already been enshrouded by black silk. All to comply with ‘mourning etiquette’. Reaching the parlor on the second floor, Felix unclasped the silver chain around his neck again. The last thing his mother needed was a reminder of her husband besides the indigo hair they shared.

Felix nearly shoved the signet ring into his uncle’s chest. “The Boar claimed to have been the only hands to touch the signet ring. Take his word however you would like..”

Hughes rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “You realize during the rituals you cannot call His Highness a boar. If not for this war you would be appointed Duke of Fraldarius. Your words no longer affect you alone.” His hand wiped down his face. “I’m not asking for a change of heart Felix. Just consider the message it would send to the vassals.”

Felix wondered how many other things his uncle would ask him to consider before he made it back to a battlefield. Face to face with the sliding door between his mother and himself, he hesitated. When Glenn had passed he had been so full of anger. He hadn’t paid attention to how his father had consoled his mother or if he had consoled her for that matter. As much as Felix wanted to retreat to his own chamber, he couldn’t. Not only had he been sent here to assist his family but his mother had comforted him through more...immature circumstances as a child.

Inhaling deeply Felix slid open the door. The eyes of numerous ladies-in-waiting fell upon him. In the sea of black dresses seated in a circle, he found his mother’s sagging amber eyes. She had not yet covered herself with a veil. The moment he stepped over the threshold, the ladies gathered their needlework and departed from the room.

Clearing his throat, Felix offered. “I arrived safely.” The only acknowledgment of his presence was a weak nod. “I can’t stay but I’m here.” In the chair next to his mother, he sat and noticed the red tint to the whites of her eyes. _ What do I even say? I have no words of comfort to give. The old man chose his fate. I’m not sorry for his death. _“Is there anything I can do?”

For a few moments, his mother's mouth opened without a sound. Slender, smooth fingers cupped his cheek. “Live my son. I would not survive mourning a third Fraldarius.” 

* * *

Enveloped within a misty cloud, Byleth smelled salt. Lazily the pegasus she rode upon as a passenger continued to glide lower. Penetrating the cloudline, a sprawling mess of teals, greens and greys pressed up against and into the blue expanse of the ocean. It was not until a few minutes of descending that the port city of Rosway came into focus. From the ocean, her eyes traced the long outer wall dotted with towers. It wrapped around the densely packed, teal slated city as well as the castle to the south which was partially defended to the east by the cliff face it sat upon. _ That must be where Felix is. _

Two days after her swordsman had departed, Byleth and a small group of senior officers who were nobility departed north. It had been four days of extended travel but she was finally at her destination. Rosway was not the first port nor the first major city that the former mercenary had encountered in her lifetime. However, unlike previous locations, for once she felt...something. While she could not place what that something was, she assumed it had to do with Felix. This was where he had grown up and partly formed the man whom she eventually fell in love with

Sand was flung into the air as the pegasus landed by what appeared to be the stables. Young men hurried herself and the rider into the building as another pegasus began its approach. Once inside the whirl of activity continued. Without permission, her saddlebags were detached and taken away. The man who carried them even had the audacity to attempt to take the Sword of the Creator from her. When she refused he looked at her as if she had grown a second head. Eventually, the nobles that Byleth had arrived with moved from the sand through a cobblestone courtyard, she gripped her relic and followed. 

Underneath a gatehouse, three men stood. Of the three she only recognized Felix. While he wore his usual scowl and swords, his armor, surcoat, and doublet were missing. His finger was in the face of an older, silver-haired man who wore a long black waistcoat with a teal handkerchief in the breast pocket. The third man, dressed in a black surcoat looked on in amusement. With his indigo hair stripped with silver, he was no doubt a Fraldarius. 

To each noble that approached the elder Fraldarius, greetings were exchanged as they followed the man in the waistcoat away. From her days at Garreg Mach, during the leadup to the Establishment Day Ball, the Lionesses had explained the basics of etiquette. From what she recalled, the proper greeting was a curtsy but on the long flight, she had worn riding pants. _ Do I bow instead? _

After glancing at Felix, the indigo haired man smirked at her. “And you must be Miss Byleth Eisner if I am not mistaken.” Unsure of the proper etiquette Byelth nodded. “I am Lord Hughes Percival Fraldarius, castellan of the Dukedom of Fraldarius. My nephew...briefly mentioned your arrival. He made it clear you were a personal guest of the House and that your needs—”

Felix stepped between herself and his uncle with his arms crossed. “Hughes.” He warned through his teeth. “And you’re the one worried about **me **embarrassing the House. Maybe the past five years buried in my old man’s ledgers made you forget how to speak to someone outside of a business meeting.”

”Perhaps, but then the past five years made you forget how to act outside of a battlefield dear nephew.”

“Don’t you have the Dukedom’s vassals to pretend to tolerate?” From his sword belt, Felix retrieved a key and unlocked a door on the right wall of the gatehouse. “I will show Miss Eisner to her room and put in my appearance to the ass-kissers over supper.”

Felix’s uncle shook his head, bid them both goodbye, and walked into the next courtyard. Through the doorway, Byleth followed her swordsman. The moment she entered the room, its purpose was clear.

The only similarity between the training grounds of Garreg Mach and Rosway was the training dummies that were scattered around the room. While Garreg Mach’s sparring yard was made of dirt, the yard in the middle of the room was a distinct circle of smooth stone. Instead of the various bleachers around the edge of the yard, only one bench was placed in front of a roaring fireplace. 

Byleth heard a _ click. _ Felix passed her and spoke. “How is your back?” 

“Stiff from the flight but the bandages are off.” She nearly laughed when Felix took two wooden swords off a nearby rack. “You think I’m already rusty?”

He pushed the sword into her chest and walked onto the smooth floor. “We’re seventeen days into the year and we haven’t sparred once. I’ve...missed it.” He held his sword at the ready, waiting on her response. “Missed you.”

“Missed you as well.” After placing her relic on the bench, Byleth accepted the sparring match. 

Over the course of their warm-up blows, they caught up. 

Felix bemoaned the number of visitors that had flooded the castle to pay their respects. He accused many of them of only traveling to keep up appearances and curry favor with himself and his uncle. With the funeral rites to begin the day after tomorrow, it was his hope that the majority of the visitors would leave after the public mourning was complete. He spoke of his mother and how the chaos of preparations was not helping her mental state. How he felt she had too much on her plate to formally meet Byleth but promised to introduce her once affairs settled down.

Byleth ran over the details of the negotiations. House Aegir would begin raiding the granaries and storehouses of the County of Bergliez. For her personal assistance with the Alliance campaign to Enbarr, their allies would use their established merchant routes to transport the raided supplies north. She reported that the forces of Houses Fraldarius and Charon were marching north to relieve the Knights of Seiros. The Knights would then prevent a pincer from their enemy. Holding the wooden sword to her side, Byleth paused and informed Felix that when she left, the former prince was...enthusiastic to take Fhirdiad. She was now conflicted on how to deal with her old star pupil. He was adamant that he still saw the dead but certainly, it was her duty to give him a second chance. To allow him to prove himself worthy of trust again. With that in mind, she told Sylvain to allow him to submit a plan for the eventual attack on the city. After all, it would take her weeks to learn what Dimitri already knew. She wondered if her action was insane.

With a loud _crack_, Felix’s blow nearly knocked the sword from her hand. It was clear what his thoughts on her actions were. With an equal force, she struck back and circled the sparing yard, searching for her opening. Their continuous blows echoed off of the stone walls. Byleth had honestly forgotten how formidable her sparring partner could be even when she was uninjured. It was only after a successful parry that she was able to lower her shoulder into his sternum. As Felix lost his balance, she swiped the blade across his chest. If the blade were real, she could have easily cut him open and said as much. Her sparring partner never took his losses well and today was no different. With a look of disgust on his face, he rolled his eyes at himself and yielded.

With assistance from her outreached hand, Felix was soon back on his feet. His sour attitude seemed to melt away when he pulled her into an embrace. “Welcome to Rosway, Byleth.” A lingering kiss was placed upon her lips. “I have an errand to run after I show you to your room. It was. It is directly next to mine.” While the next door was unlocked, an armed guard stood in front of the proceeding door. He quickly stepped aside for the two. “I’ll show you the nearby bath as well. The maids should be filling it. Just rest today and I’ll escort you to dinner.” Up a round staircase, she followed him as his footsteps grew heavier. “I know this place is unfamiliar to you but with...everything”

“I understand, you can give me a tour when things settle down. All I need is a desk and a few maps while I’m here.”

At the top of the second landing, Felix waited for her. Once she stood next to him he explained where the four doors on the floor led to. As promised their rooms were side by side. Though Byleth did not bring it up, she wondered if the room had belonged to Glenn considering its location. Down the hall, Felix pointed and explained the door led to what had been the duke’s office. Since the room was unoccupied, he insisted she put it to use. After he confirmed that the final door was to the bath, he stammered about his errand. Quickly he pecked her lips and bolted down the round staircase.

Byleth shook her head. Steam rushed out of the room when she slid open the door. After four months of occasional bathing in cold water, she was eager to let the hot water loosen her muscles. As she unbuttoned her sweat-soaked blouse she took note of the end table beside the porcelain tub. She expected the soap, herbs to add to the water, towels and clean shift. Even in public baths, those were provided with a fee. What she hadn’t expected was the metal pail holding a glass bottle surrounded by snow and the tankard next to it. Her swordsman’s sudden departure made sense. While Felix likely hadn’t placed the bottle there himself, she was certain he had at least requested or ordered the gesture on her behalf. 

With the last of her clothes on the floor, Byleth sank into the blissful heat contained in the tub. Usually, in the moments of quiet without Felix nearby, her mind wandered off to the charts and maps stored within it. But as she filled the tankard and lifted it to her lips, her only thoughts involved Felix and how grateful she was for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I could have done a sizeable timeskip to take us to the fall of Fhirdiad, I've been looking forward to introducing you all to the Dukedom of Fraldarius for a long time. In fact, I may or may not have the floorplan of Rosway Castle on my desktop You can expect a large heap of fluff with the occasional sad moment as Felix comes to terms with various things.
> 
> Note to self: It is the 18th of the Great Tree Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter


	17. The Spectacle (Great Tree Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral of the Duke of Fraldarius takes place, Felix deals with it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word of the chapter is 'catafalque'. Catafalque: A decorated wooden framework supporting the coffin of a distinguished person during a funeral or while lying in state.

With each swing of the chaplain’s censer, bitter puffs of myrrh incensed the catafalque where his old man lay. Seated on a cushioned pew, Felix had no doubt that the foul smell had already permeated his black surcoat and perhaps even his hair at this point. Today, wherever he went the smell of mourning would follow. Eventually, the censer was set down upon the south-facing, granite altar. Hughes squeezed his shoulder. Together they stood and approached the chaplain. When his uncle paused next to the corpse, Felix averted his eyes and continued on. 

While his uncle gave the eulogy (the first of several throughout the day), Felix attempted to distract himself. Instinctively his thumb went for the pommel of the silver sword. However, instead of his hand wrapping around the blade’s grip, it wrapped around air. Inwardly he cursed the church’s rule against carrying armaments within a ‘sacred space’. 

He refused to look at his old man’s corpse but there were not many other distractions available around him. The small, circular chapel of the castle was not ornate by any means. It was after all meant for private use by the Duke’s family. The only reason it held more than one row of pews was for private rituals such as today. 

Really the only noteworthy aspect of the chapel was the three stained glass windows housed within separate alcoves. Behind the altar, the first stained glass window depicted the crests of the saints surrounded by the crests of the ten elites. The other two alcoves were both filled with lit votive candles. The alcove to the east depicted Kyphon parrying the fabled assassin’s blade away from Loog with the Sword of Moralta. To the west, the second alcove depicted Kyphon flanking Loog with the Aegis Shield as the king was crowned by an Archbishop. It was within the two alcoves that his father had first told Felix stores from the War of the Eagle and Lion. Before the young boy realized the truth behind the stories.

Felix only refocused when the chaplain placed his hand upon Felix’s shoulder. “His Highness Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd swore that he was the one to remove the ring from the Duke of Fraldarius. Do you Felix Hugo, heir-apparent of Fraldarius, affirm His Highness’s words?”

As much as he disliked the Boar, Felix could not deny his words. Out of all the rituals to come over the course of the day, at least the ‘breaking of the seal’ was logical. For the moment the chaplain was only establishing the idea that no replica signet rings could exist. It had nothing to do with the Boar’s recent behavior. 

After Felix replied "I do" the chaplain directed him to follow Hughes. Upon the altar, the castellan placed the deceased duke’s signet ring next to a ceremonial silver hammer.

As the priest began a prayer, Felix stared at the ring and briefly considered the previous Duke of Fraldarius. Certainly, his old man had fulfilled his duty to Faerghus several times over. However, it was debatable whether he had been a good duke for the duchy. Because of his constant business in Fhirdiad especially in the years after the Tragedy of Duscar, Hughes had likely spent more time managing the estate holdings. Most grievous of all, the duke had extended the war by not putting his foot down and sieging Fhirdiad. All because of some promise he made to the dead. At least that was a mistake Felix would never make, whether he ascended as Duke of Fraldarius or not.

Another squeeze on his shoulder from Hughes signaled it was time for Felix’s lone role in the ritual. With his back turned away from the vassals he grasped the silver hammer. Activating the Crest of Fraldarius, he brought it down upon the ring, twice for good measure, smashing it to pieces. 

To the assembled witnesses the chaplain proclaimed. “The authority of Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, given by the goddess, over the Dukedom of Fraldarius is no more. I invite all assembled to view the proof with their own eyes.”

Behind him, Felix knew the vassals were forming a line. Now that the signet ring had been destroyed, they would be given an opportunity with the corpse to pay their respects, confirm for themselves that indeed their liege was dead, as well as confirm that the signet ring had been destroyed to their satisfaction. Unfortunately, to prevent pieces of the ring from being taken he and Hughes had to stand vigil next to the altar. Until the vassals departed, he was trapped in the chapel.

For a time the vigil provided ample distraction. Felix kept a stern face and his eyes on the signet ring as a face by face filtered by, mourning in various levels of sincerity. Each passing on words of condolences and on occasion words of encouragement to who they assumed would be their eventual new liege. To Felix, it was fortunate that there was still a war to be won. Even if Fhirdiad fell tomorrow there was likely at least another year of conflict. There was no need to consider the far future besides how to live to see it.

After it was clear that the last of the faces had passed by, Felix turned around. The day’s proceedings had just begun but it felt as if days had passed. Glancing around the chapel it appeared to only hold himself, the chaplain shaking the hand of the final vassal, an exhausted Hughes with glassy eyes, and...his late father who rested upon black velvet and teal pillows. Because of the embalming process, it appeared that he was merely resting his eyes. As if any moment his old man would awaken, and ride off to Fhirdiad while spouting off nonsense about his duty to the late king. 

But his father was dead. 

There would never be a chance to ask him if those left behind had been considered before his old man accepted death. There were now questions Felix had about the Crest of Fraldarius that he would never receive the old man’s input on. Not that he ever would have asked. Their relationship had been estranged for years and now would never be mended. All because of one damn day. Something gnawed at the numbness he had enveloped himself in to withstand the day. To escape Felix stamped past the pews and flung open the chapel doors. 

Instead of relief, Felix found an abyss of black that slowly processed past him, accompanied only by the ear-piercing wails of mourning. It was a fact that he had little time to compose himself. The next set of mourners allowed within the chapel were relatives. His mother had likely been at the head of the procession and was now inside grieving her husband. 

“Felix. Is there anything I can do?” Dressed in a simple undyed gown and black bodice, Byleth leaned against the round stairway of the south-western tower with her arms crossed. Compared to the day’s gloom her uncovered mint hair shone like the sunlight. While pity had been in the eyes of those he interacted with, the brows above her green eyes were knit with worry. _ I must look as tired as I feel if Byleth is concerned for me just by my appearance. _

When Felix went to sit upon the staircase, the weight of the morning dragged him down forcibly. Beside him, Byleth sat. One hand she placed on his lower back while her other hand covered his own. 

It was frustrating. Yesterday the chaplain had gone to Hughes and himself to suggest that the (temporary) Archbishop be the one to preside over the day's rituals. Felix had outright rejected the idea. The last thing he needed was Byleth attempting to navigate an already unfamiliar situation and his mother creating a first impression on her based on it. However, because of his decision mourning etiquette dictated that she was not allowed to enter the chapel during private mourning periods. Even if he desperately needed her to have his back.

He pointed down the hallway to the left. "Don't just sit here like a lost puppy. There is a door that leads to the library. You can't be beside me but I'll know where you are wh...if...when I need you." Byleth squeezed his hand. "The crypt is supposed to be for family only but...please." Before Byleth was in his life, he had scarcely used that word. Somehow asking her for things did not leave a bad taste in his mouth. "I would appreciate...need you with me."

* * *

With her eyes wide open, Byleth restlessly started into the darkness that surrounded her. It was not due to any discomfort. The previous day she had even accidentally fallen asleep on top of the warm furs and decorative pillows after her bath. No, what kept her awake was the spectacle Felix had been forced to endure over the course of the day. 

Byleth had done her best to comfort Felix in the sporadic moments they had been side by side. However, even when she was finally allowed within the chapel alongside a handful of distinguished guests, her time to comfort him had only been a few words as she passed her swordsman and his uncle. 

Directly afterward those assembled had been ushered away into covered carriages. The ride to the church for the public service had been surreal. The streets were lined with shades of grey and black. It was only after being seated within the church that she learned the late duke’s coffin would be brought through the crowds into the church alongside his family. A thousand-yard stare was plastered on Felix’s face when he entered the pew in front of her alongside his family. His dull expression persisted even when their eyes met. It had been at that moment that Byleth regretted her insistence on sending her swordsman home. He had been suffering throughout the day but all she had been able to do was watch. 

By the time the Fraldarius family descended into the crypt her swordsman appeared pale. Byleth had managed to whisper a few insignificant words of comfort to him but his eyes remained fixed ahead of him. She then stood behind Felix who held his mother’s hand as the late Duke was interred. The last time Byleth had seen Felix was during the somber feast within the great hall. Looking back it was clear that Felix never even touched his food before stalking away. Fruitlessly she had searched both the training hall and his bedroom before retiring to her own bedroom.

Rolling out of the bed, Byleth lit a candle and dressed in her usual black attire. She knocked upon Felix’s door in the hope that he had returned from wherever he had disappeared to. She nearly gave up when the door opened. Felix looked little like the swordsman she had grown accustomed to. His indigo locks cascaded down to the linen nightshirt that hung from his slumped frame. The arm not supported by the doorknob limply hung against the breeches he wore.

Byleth wasn’t sure what to say. It was clear Felix was not okay but she worried he would rebuke her if she offered to talk about whatever he was feeling. Stepping towards the threshold, she requested "Can I come in?"

Felix didn’t object. In fact, he stepped aside for her. After she placed the candle upon the nearby nightstand, Byleth sat upon the near side of the canopied bed with her back against the headboard. As her swordsman sat beside her, he nudged her inch by inch towards the middle of the mattress. He hadn't seemed to mind her touch earlier in that morning so again she held his hand and draped her arm over his shoulder.

"Byleth?" Her name itself seemed to be a question from his lips. When Felix went silent after her name she squeezed his hand and hoped that was a suitable enough response to whatever question had been on his mind. He continued. "With everything you know about my old man. If you could have saved him...would you have done it?”

At first, the answer seemed obvious. If able to return to camp, there was no doubt in Byleth’s mind that she would have pulsed. If her body allowed it. Even without the admittingly strained relationship between Felix and the late duke, she would have saved him as a valuable ally. But with the way her swordsman asked the question, there was something else he was asking. She just couldn’t tell what. 

“If I could have pulsed I would have.” Byleth gave the obvious answer and began to elaborate. “I know you two were not close but still. I know what it’s like to have your father die in front of you and be powerless to prevent it. When my father died I reversed time. I even attempted to strike Kronya down but my relic was deflected by a white-eyed man. I tried pulsing again but...nothing happened. He died twice before my eyes Felix. I would have spared you that experience if I could have.” 

Felix gave no response after a few moments. Byleth winced inwardly. Maybe his question hadn’t been about lingering guilt over losing his father. After all, Felix had stated multiple times that he had been abandoned repeatedly by the man. _ Is there a different approach to his question that I’m missing? _

As Felix stared straight ahead, he stated. “I wasn’t powerless. I don’t regret not sacrificing myself for the Boar. Even if he honestly changed his ways, he would never be worth...” Briefly, his gaze turned onto her, giving Byleth an idea of how the sentence might have ended. “I saw the Boar get assassinated Byleth.” The next words stunned the former mercenary, despite all that she had witnessed in her life. “Just like I saw Hubert nearly kill you. I identified the Boar’s assassin but it wasn’t even fear or self-preservation that caused my inaction. It was anger. Just like Glenn the Boar had taken you from me. I was prepared to let him die, consequences be damned. I noticed my old man. Even ran over to stop him. Make him save himself. He saw exactly what I did and chose death...chose to abandon his family.” 

As much as Byleth wanted clarifications on **everything** Felix had told her, now was not that time. Her swordsman rarely spoke at length about emotional matters. If she spoke too soon, it was possible he would clamp up into silence. She felt his hand shaking but couldn’t tell if it was in anger, anguish or a mixture of the two. 

“I despise him and everything he used to stand for. But. Do you remember when you told me about your regret? I told you I didn’t have any then. I have an answer to that question now.” Before she could ask what that regret was, Felix sniffled and continued. “Once, as a boy, I struck my father. I was so angry after losing Glenn. I thought he only saw my brother as another Fraldarius to fulfill the _ House duty _. It changed everything between us. I’ve thought back on that single moment constantly today. He must have been upset at the time. My actions probably only exacerbated Glenn’s death.” For a moment he paused. “I wish that I could go back and apologize to him.”

Into her eyes, Felix stared as if he was searching them for an answer. Byleth carefully considered her words. She knew little of the late Duke Fraldarius besides what she had been told by her former pupils. She wondered what kind of man he was before the tragedy that seemed to define so many lives. 

“That's just how life is sometimes.” It was cold but it was the truth. “I think you’re allowed to despise your father. There were things about him that frustrated even me. But you’ve shared happier memories of him before. Thinking back on those moments is not the same as forgiving him.”

Truthfully Byleth had no idea if anything out of her mouth was helping Felix. For all she knew, she was only making things worse. Her swordsman kept staring into her eyes but there were no more answers she could give. There was never an easy answer to the relationship between the two Fraldarius men and now there never would be. 

Removing her hand from Felix’s, Byleth embraced him. While the gesture couldn’t fix anything. It was all she had left to comfort him with. Surprisingly when he finally moved it was to lift the covers and guide the two of them further down onto the mattress. 

Byleth wasn't sure how long she held him under the covers but eventually, he rolled over onto his side, facing the door. It was only then that she removed her socks and let her eyes flutter shut.

* * *

Traces of sunlight peeked from the sides of the dark green, heavy curtains as Felix opened his eyes. Previously he had felt exhausted from dealing with the loss of Byleth and his old man. Today he knew his exhaustion stemmed from the previous day’s public show. 

Regrettably, the circus of events would continue until the vassals returned to their own lands. Hughes had already insisted that Felix join him for the coming audiences. Both as heir-apparent of Fraldarius and in order to answer questions about the war’s progress. He could already hear the vassals’ complaints. They would certainly question the number of troops deployed in the middle of the planting season. Not to mention how **he **planned to ensure that the Dukedom saw the benefit of bearing the brunt of the war. There were no good answers for either question, at least for the moment. 

It dawned upon Felix that Sylvain’s arrogant father and calloused mother, the Margrave and Margravine of Gautier, were distinguished guests of his mother. It was one thing to refuse cooperation via letters and another to refuse verbally and be forced to give reasons. After making a mental note to pass the idea along to Byleth, he began to roll onto his back. 

His leg collided with something solid. Cautiously Felix continued to turn. He didn’t bother to suppress the grin that escaped his lips at the sight of Byleth sprawled out on the mattress beside him. In the quiet moment, away from the pressure to rise for a march or battle he watched her sleep. Her mint hair was a messy blob upon the pillow that wasn’t tucked under the arm on her far side. Her lips were parted just slightly as she continued to doze. 

Over his bedmate’s limbs, Felix gently placed his own and nuzzled into her shoulder. Previously he dreaded the idea of domesticity and admittingly still missed the battlefield but mornings like this were something he could grow accustomed to if given the chance.

Felix wondered if the previous night had earned him that chance. After all, he had placed every ounce of trust that he possessed in Byleth. His reward was that the weight upon his shoulders had been discarded with every sentence uttered. After his blathering, his bedmate likely had more questions than the vassals he would meet with later in the day. 

Felix’s smile persisted as Byleth’s eyes fluttered open. 

Whatever Byleth asked, he would willingly answer. Whether or not she realized it, he had come to a decision and in another errand or two, he would have proof of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you all still okay with the pacing? I know it's been a long moon but it's also a major moon for both the war and their romance.
> 
> Note to self: It is the 20th of the Great Tree Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter


	18. The Way to A Woman's Unbeating Heart (Great Tree Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An impromptu sparring match breaks out over a book. Felix attempts to impress Byleth with a tour of Rosway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I've prided on making this story as realistic as my research will allow. That being said, this chapter briefly touches on a subject matter that might hit close to home for some readers considering the current situation. But just like the war, this current crisis will pass in time. I'm probably making a bigger deal out of it than necessary but better safe than sorry.

Rising from one of the slanted scribe’s desks in the archives, Byleth wiped her ink-stained hands on a linen towel. In the days following the funeral, Felix had been occupied with audiences. Meanwhile, Byleth had been laying the groundwork to plan the next stage of the war. While Lord Hughes had understandably forbidden her from marring the original relevant documents, he conscripted a squad of local scribes to assist her in copying them over. 

The fortress city of Merceus, the seat of power for House Bergliez, was said to be impregnable. At least for the time being that seemed to be a fact due to its thick walls and lack of entry points. So far she hadn’t seen a viable attack angle that would result in anything other than a pyrrhic victory at best. It was now understandable why Claude wanted her consultation in order to find a solution. 

Without anything to do until the population report on the desk dried, Byleth ascended the nearby round staircase and made her way up to the second floor. Though their business had been apart she and Felix had still found time to see each other away from their nightly sparring sessions before separate baths and bed. Between audiences, Felix visited the archives to check her progress. While Byleth lingered in the antechamber between the audience chamber and the late duke's office while she waited for her swordsman to have a moment. 

When Byleth first stepped foot in the late duke’s office she had been surprised with how utilitarian it was considering the occupant was a noble. While the oaken desk and chairs to the left were well-made, they were not particularly decorative. Not that a visitor to the room could actually see the desk at the moment. It was covered by the documents which had been in her saddlebag. Instead of artwork, shelves stocked with parchment, quills, inkwells and teal sealing-wax lined the wall. The room was kept warm by a fireplace nearly straight ahead. Over its mantel, decorated with a few sketches of the late duke with the late king, hung a silver shield engraved with the Crest of Fraldarius. 

The only other piece of furniture was a couch that sat under the window to the right. From what little Byleth had seen of the castle, this was her favorite spot. The afternoon sun shone through the window naturally warming the cloth or whoever lay upon it. It was the ideal spot for leisurely reading. 

Much to Byleth’s delight, the couch was already in use by Felix. Both his socked feet and his head, buried in a book, were propped up on armrests. Abruptly he closed the book as she approached. 

“You didn’t have to stop reading.” As Byleth stepped forward, Felix slid the book under the couch. “In fact, if I could find a book in the library that wasn’t academic, I would join you.” 

As the words left her mouth, the former professor was reminded that her former pupil was never the most studious. Memorizing facts were left to the likes of Ferdinand, Lysithea, and Ingrid. The young swordsman preferred to train his body. That begged the question. “Wait. If that book isn’t academic, where did you get it from?” As Byleth reached out to retrieve the book, Felix swiveled his body to block her. 

“Hey, stop that. Find your own book.” Felix chided her.

Unbeknownst to Felix, his behavior had only served to spark her competitive drive. It was now her personal challenge to reach the book no matter how trivial the subject matter. She wrapped her arms around his calves and soon they were both on the hardwood floor rolling around for the upper hand. For a brief moment, Byleth felt confident when she forced Felix onto his back...until his heels dug into her own back. She tried to pull away but her route was quickly cut off when his thighs encircled her neck and a single arm. 

“Yield. I **will** apply pressure, Byleth.” Her sparring partner warned. When she looked up at him, it appeared that he was staring up at the ceiling. 

The fact that Felix had taken his eyes off of her, his opponent, was odd. If there was true danger in the situation, a strike could possibly be placed on his eye with her fist or elbow. Currently, that was uncalled for. Byleth ran through her other options. Her preferred style of hand-to-hand involved daggers. Unfortunately not only had she lost hers at Grondor Field but stabbing her sparring partner’s leg would be (once again) uncalled for. 

Felix tightened his hold around her neck. Though Byleth was not well-versed in grappling, she understood anatomy. If you applied enough pressure to someone's neck it would block the flow of blood to the brain causing them to pass out. Quickly she scanned the room for any non-lethal items to wield and wondered if it was possible to reach the book with her foot. When a short _ swish _ was heard across the hardwood, her sparring partner finally looked down from the ceiling. Previously it had been clear that he had no intention of choking her out but now with his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance Felix no longer held back. She could feel the pressure of blood build up in her neck.

Blackish spots began to appear in Byleth's vision. She had no choice. "Yield!" 

Immediately the constricting pressure vanished. The blackish spots receded then were replaced by Felix's face hovering over hers. With the smugness he reserved for his rare victories, he asked. “Are you injured?”

In fairness to her sparring partner, he was only smug because she had maintained consciousness. Otherwise, instead of a knowing smile across his face and his hand gently placed on her shoulder, his face would be red with anger and his hand under her head in desperation. Slowly Byleth sat up and rotated the shoulder that had been trapped. As she looked over her body, everything appeared in order for the most part. The only injuries were minor red and white scrapes on her hands. Likely from when they dragged across the wooden floor during their grapple.

“Nothing seems torn or broken," Byleth reported. "you'll need to show me how to escape that hold when we're on a smoother surface."

With assistance from Felix’s arms, Byleth was soon on her feet again. She had nearly forgotten why they had begun their impromptu sparring bout. Peeking out from under the couch lay a black book with a yellow diamond. Byleth was nearly certain she had seen the cover before, carried around by Dorothea, Mercedes, and Ferdinand during their time at Garreg Mach. If the book was in fact ‘The Principles of Electroturgy' the former professor had even tried in vain to convince a younger Felix to study the tome.

Letting out an exasperated sigh Byleth picked up the tome and grumbled. “‘Magic is not my forte.’ You said.” Byleth was certain her irritation with Felix was petty but her former pupil had been a stubborn mule when it had come to his classload. “‘Why should I attend Professor Hanneman’s lectures?’ You said.” 

When her swordsman physically winced from her words, she relented and joked. “It’s a wonder that my hair turned mint instead of grey during my tenure.”

Felix sat upon the couch and crossed his arms. “Hubert forced me to change my mind,” Byleth recalled that the dark bishop had set off the explosion that killed her at Grondor Field. While it had taken another two nights to ask, she now understood that it was the Crest of Fraldarius that allowed her swordsman to witness it. “I wasn’t fast enough to keep you safe. He was within my grasp and I couldn't deal a fatal blow. I’m changing that. The next time I see that snake will be the last.”

It dawned upon Byleth that her swordsman had hidden the tome because of the very reaction she had to it. 

“I’m sorry,” She handed the tome back to Felix and kissed the crown of his head. Then added “That was rude of me. When you’re ready to incorporate reason into our sparring, let me know. Just ensure you can control the output first.” 

Byleth grabbed a few charts from the desk to plot potential supply routes for Dimitri’s eventual campaign west. She settled onto the couch next to Felix and together they both dove into studying.

* * *

As a pupil at Garreg Mach, a younger Felix’s morning routine was to rouse himself for Professor Byleth Eisner’s daily sparring seminar. When the war broke out the daily seminars were replaced with daily weapon maintenance. Since the morning after his father’s funeral, his morning routine had again changed. 

Under the warm sheets and furs, Felix rolled towards the weight he felt on the mattress. It was still odd to fall asleep and wake up next to another person but not unpleasant. Felix wrapped Byleth into an embrace and ran his hand down the sleeve of a button-up shirt he had loaned her to sleep in. Just like the previous mornings, she squirmed against his body as she woke up. 

On the campaign, it had been necessary for everyone to pack light. It wasn’t until she had gone to breakfast in the same clothes that she had worn to bed that Felix remembered how little the former mercenary owned. On the brighter side, having Byleth come to bed and wake up wearing his clothes had been added to the list of things he could grow **very** accustomed to. The way the shirt bagged up at her wrists and was filled by the curves of her chest aroused him the first time... every time she wore his clothes.

The thought of allowing the curtains around the canopied bed to remain closed was tempting. However, Felix already had a plan set. The previous afternoon the last of the whiny vassals had returned to their estates. For the first time in...he couldn’t recall, he found himself with a completely free day. 

So far Byleth’s time in Rosway had been somber. In the moments when the tactician was not advancing the war in some manner, she was beside him with a small smile and an outstretched hand. While he was certain she was comfortable and that her needs were being exceeded as he had ordered, he could not say for certain that her memories of his home would be pleasant. 

That needed to change.

Felix had no desire to tour Rosway Castle until the eleven days of public mourning were complete. Luckily besides the stretch of road from the castle to the church, Byleth had not seen the port city of Rosway itself. After breakfast the two made their way through the castle’s gatehouses on horseback, flanked by knights. 

The salty sea air mixed with plumes of burning oak from chimneys giving Rosway a unique scent. Admittedly his travels had not taken him as far as Byleth so he might have been biased. Felix was curious about how his home compared to the other cities that the former mercenary had visited but was reluctant to ask. From the few stories he had heard, the cities in Fódlan were villages compared to Morfis. He was jealous of a city he had never visited and couldn’t quite place why.

Normally on rides through the city, Felix’s instinct was to stay alert for suspicious activity but Byleth was proving to be a distraction. He found himself lost in the way her wide eyes scanned her surroundings and how bright she smiled when he pointed out what a building was, no matter how obscure. It wasn’t that Rosway was by any means dangerous but it was House Fraldarirus’s duty to maintain order for the benefit of their subjects.

When the streets began to narrow, Felix knew they were close to their first destination. They dismounted from the horses and continued on foot. 

“Heh, I thought Ferdinand was the odd duck at the academy for mingling with commoners. But you seem to know Rosway well.” She mused with a short chuckle. 

“The castle is mostly self-sufficient in the unlikely case of a siege, but its workforce, both skilled craftsmen and menial laborers are pulled from the city.” He explained. “Most of them paid on a day to day basis. While the butler hires and manages the menial labor, House Fraldarirus...that is my mother, my uncle, my late old man and on two occasions myself...chooses which skilled craftsmen to give patronage to.”

Byleth cocked her head towards him. “And who was impressive enough to earn _Master Fraldarius's_ patronage?”

The question was asked sincerely but his title was uttered with enough sarcasm that the knights around them appeared horrified. It was clear that they saw Byleth’s attitude as a slight. Felix found their discomfort amusing.

For years, the Heir of Fraldarius had cultivated an intimidating public image for himself; one of a sharp-tongued, stony lone wolf. Despite the eyes of the knights, Felix laughed and beamed with pride. “Well _ Miss Eisner," _ Though his tone was sarcastic, he preferred 'Miss Eisner’ compared to 'Professor' it felt more personal somehow. "The blacksmith who is repairing your armor isn’t Zoltan but his work is outstanding.” He frowned and sighed. “The sword I lost at Grondor Field was an original from him.” After a beat, he continued with his original line of thought. “More importantly, he isn’t content to simply follow his years of training. He attempts to push the boundaries of his trade as much as I push the boundaries of my skill. They don’t always pan out but I full-heartedly respect his drive.” After a few more steps he pointed his finger ahead. “That is my second patronage.”

As expected, Byleth’s jaw dropped as she read the signage. It was an expression he had only seen once before; when the Lions surprised her on her birthday at the academy. “A confectionary? You don't need to humor me.” Byleth insisted as he ordered the knights to not follow them inside. “I thought you hated sweets.”

“I do.” He asserted as the pair continued on. “When Glenn was knighted my old man threw a banquet to celebrate. He allowed my brother to choose the confectioner for the event who then dragged me around Rosway to taste-test desserts. My brother had a sweet tooth but wanted to make sure I would enjoy whatever he chose. It wasn’t until this store that he made me try a sample.”

Just like every other confectionery the glass cases had been filled with typical Fódlanese fare; tarts, cheesecakes, fritters, gingerbread, as well as baked and dried fruits. What had stood out to the brothers was that the owner and confectioner of the store was a woman. In private homes, females worked the kitchen but in culinary professions men dominated.

“The wealth of the duchy comes largely from the trade it does through Rosway’s port. The shortest distance between the Alliance and Faerghus runs through Ailell. However, few goods are shipped through the valley by caravan because of the heat as well as the superior storage capacity of a ship. Goods that enter the port are taxed by the city who is then taxed by House Fraldarius. The bulk of the goods flow to and from the Alliance but most luxury trading is done with Almarya.”

Throughout the day many of the confectioners had boasted about their use of Almaryan spices. In her case, there were unusual items scattered between the traditional desserts. Candied ginger, boiled honey as well as balls of dates with nuts mixed within both. Out of curiosity, Glenn had asked about the non-traditional sweets. She claimed with excitement that she had picked up many recipes from Almarya. Varieties of fried dough, a strange honeyed cake stuffed with cheese and what was eventually served to his brother. 

“And that was what Glenn insisted I try; an Almaryan biscuit spiced with cardamom and saffron. Her confections were highly regarded at the banquet. For years she had contracts with House Fraldarius until Glenn died.” Odd enough the smell of species did not flood out of the shop as it had in the past when Felix opened the door and allowed Byleth to walk in ahead of him. Finally, he finished the story. “My old man wanted to terminate the contract to keep from upsetting my mother but I stopped him. His reasoning was ridiculous. Contracts should be based on merit alone, not emotional attachment.” 

When Felix joined Byleth inside, his stomach dropped. The main items upon the scarcely stocked shelves were dried fruits. The scare sweets that were on display were heavily marked up. He felt like an idiot; the Fraldarius Dukedom was at war. Staples such as flour, sugar, and butter were likely rationed at best or unavailable at worst.

Gripping his fists into a ball, Felix refused to dejectedly walk away. His intention had been to show Byleth a good time and the most reliable way had always been with food. She actively sought out alcohol, was drawn to new recipes, and craved fresh ingredients. That had been clear even at the academy when she was still regarded as the Ashen Demon. In fact, during her first week at the academy, the Lions constantly saw her at the dining hall. The running joke among the students became that their professor possessed a bottomless stomach.

It wasn’t until the distant Ashen Demon became their beloved Professor that they learned the reason for her constant eating that first week. Until she had come to Garreg Mach the former mercenary’s meals had been dependent on contracts. If there was no work, there was no food and when she was out on a job the food was rarely fresh. She reluctantly admitted that she had been shocked by the sheer abundance of fresh food at the dining hall and didn’t make the connection that the steady stream of meals was in no danger of ending.

Though he knew Hughes would have a word with him, Felix bought a chunk of the dried fruit to start. From the time that he and Byleth had left Garreg Mach until they arrived at Rosway, their diet had been salted meats, hard bread, and pottage using boiled grains as well as the occasional vegetable. The dried fruit was expensive but at least it wouldn’t spoil easily. Meaning that once they left Rosway, Byleth would have something to keep her morale up. Although the confectioner didn’t have the spiced cookies on hand, Felix requested them to be delivered to the castle alongside the dried fruit if the ingredients could be acquired.

If Byleth had been at all bothered by the effect of the war on Rosway, she hadn’t shown it. Once back on the streets she seemed content as she munched upon a handful of dried apples.

As they ambled closer to the port, the streets became more crowded. Normally Felix despised being accompanied on trips away from the castle. However, while Byleth was armed with her relic, she was still unarmoured. On his order, two knights broke off and began to clear the path ahead. 

Over the noise of the crowd around them, Byleth spoke. “You mentioned that Rosway does trade with both the Alliance and Almarya. Obviously tea and spices are imported but trade usually means something is exported.”

Felix was more than glad to answer her question. If Byleth was curious about his home that hopefully meant she was enjoying herself. 

“Rosway also directly imports Almayan spiced wine, raw silk, cotton, incense, and dyes. Much of it is then moved by caravan elsewhere in Faerghus but you can always find a sizable selection within the marketplace.” Felix realized he was still using his knowledge of the city before the war broke out. He corrected himself. “Or at least you could. As for exports, Rosway ships...shipped goods not only from the duchy but from all over Faerghus; wool, linen, furs. The Margravate of Gautier is known for its precious metals as well as cheese which gets aged as it is shipped. Interestingly enough Fódlanese weaving techniques are sought after in Almarya so we import raw silk and cotton then export the finished product for a profit. ”

Felix paused when they reached the port which bustled with activity to his relief. Because of the season, there were no fishermen docking with whatever their catch of the day was but the harbor was still full of merchant ships loading and unloading their cargo. For a few moments, he couldn’t help but watch the first example of normalcy he had seen in years. As long as trade was flowing, there would be funds for the dukedom and thus the war no matter how slow the trickle. 

“So the Duchy of Fraldarius itself mainly exports finished textiles?” Byleth inquired. 

Mulling the question over, Felix walked along the stone docks. “Along with oak and other lumber like the rest of Faerghus yes. However just like the margravate is known for its cheese instead of its ore, the duchy isn’t known for its oak even though it's more profitable. Rosway is known as the Pearl of Faerghus. The nickname comes for the wealth it generates,” He sat down at the water’s edge and pointed out towards the sea. “The way the fortified harbor protects the port, and because it is the furthest south that pearl-producing oysters will thrive." 

Byleth's shadow stopped behind him. Felix could appreciate why she hadn't sat next to him. Rumors would likely already swirl around the castle because of their excursion to the city. At least he could point out that as heir-apparent it was his job to curry favor with a dignitary as important as the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros no matter how temporary. 

"We also export hard ciders made from the various apples grown within the duchy." An idea struck Felix, one sure to brighten Byleth's day. "We could stop by a cidery before we head back to the castle if you’d like.”

“I’d really like that. If you know of a good cobbler, I could use some minor repairs on my boots before we're back on the campaign.” Byleth’s shadow swayed left to right, she was obviously shifting her weight as she considered what to say. "It’s been a while since I was in a major city but Rosway seems nice so far. I can only imagine what it's like in the warmer months." 

“It isn’t as different as one would imagine. Farmers set up stalls near the entrance to the port to sell their produce and fishermen sell whatever they catch in the morning dockside. I know Garreg Mach didn’t stock that pond with lobster, shellfish, or any saltwater fish.” The next words Felix nearly stopped himself from uttering but...it needed to be said. “Once this is all over...you’re always welcome to visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Fire Emblem, House Fraldarius and House Gautier fought a losing war for five years. Somehow when Rod joins you after Ailell it is even stated that House Fradlarius has taken care of the supply of food even though it still needs to be rationed. I felt the need to explain how that was possible and this is what I came up with.
> 
> [Citing my source on desserts](http://www.eg.bucknell.edu/~lwittie/sca/food/dessert.html)
> 
> Note to self: It is the 23rd of the Great Tree Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter


	19. First Impressions (Great Tree Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the mourning period, Felix shows Byleth Castle Rosway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter but only going outside for walks and groceries certainly took a toll on my creativity. We'll see whether I update this chapter or give this long-ass moon one more chapter before moving ahead.

Tying her hair into a bun, Byleth stepped out of her room. While she and Felix were physically sleeping with one another, they were still dressing separately. As per their routine, her swordsman was waiting just outside of her door when she emerged. For the first time since his father's funeral, he wasn't wearing his black surcoat. Instead, he wore one of his familiar black turtlenecks. 

"What's with that look?" Felix crossed his arms and asked. Byleth realized she had involuntarily cocked her head. "Do I have something on my face?"

Byleth ran her hands down the soft cotton sleeves and enjoyed the feel of his flexed muscles. "Your clothes are back to normal. I assume the mourning period you've complained about is over?"

The second-floor of what Felix called the 'green tower' was the only area of the castle where she dared to touch her swordsman in this manner. Besides the late duke's office, it was the only area they had any privacy. 

When Felix stepped into her touch, Byleth trailed her fingers back up his sleeves to his shoulders. “And with my sanity still in check no less. Hopefully, by the time we’re finished with breakfast, the servants will be finished tearing down all the black.” Felix reached across and placed one of his warm hands upon hers. "If you aren't tied up with the war, we're touring the castle today. We can go...almost anywhere you want."

"Almost anywhere?" Byleth wondered if there were secrets even about Rosway Castle. "Where can't we go?"

Felix scoffed at her question but answered with a teasing tone. “Hughes wouldn’t appreciate me opening the vault for you.” Byleth let out a huff of laughter through her nose. “And then there are a handful of private chambers reserved for salaried staff. It’s not that we can’t go inside but that we shouldn’t.”

“Is it okay if I ask about your childhood?” Byleth asked in a quiet voice. Felix pulled away from her. His eyes were wide and his mouth was parted in confusion. “I know your family is...a sensitive topic. I don’t want to upset you.”

”You mean Glenn. Is it okay for you to ask about Glenn." He stated bluntly before giving a poignant pause. “Byleth, I hope you don't think I hated my brother. I just hate it when people expect me to be who they think he could have been. We fought...as most siblings do but I loved him. I probably looked up to him as much or more than anyone who claims to be following the example he left.”

To test the waters, she asked a seemingly harmless question. “So are we staying in your childhood rooms?”

“To fully answer that question I’d have to explain the steps of knighthood.” Felix shook his head. “I’d rather not get into that nonsense. The short answer to your question is yes. The rooms on this floor were given to my brother and me when we outgrew the nursery on the floor below. And yes the room you’re staying in once belonged to Glenn when he visited.”

”When he visited? I thought Rosway was the Fraldarius seat of power.” 

Felix removed his hand from her shoulder and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Don’t. Push. That. Topic. You know. Actually you don’t.” He muttered before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “I’d rather you drop the question for now and know it has to do with the chivalric nonsense I hate.” 

In her mercenary days, Byleth had never heard of the concept of chivalry. It was Ashe who explained what they were when she was a professor. During that time, it was widely known that the young swordsman felt that chivalric virtues only blinded those around him. To this day the former mercenary understood that knights were expected to strive towards the traits promoted by chivalry but knew little if the occupation itself.

Felix chewed on his lip. “I’m not trying to discourage you from asking questions. Glenn was...is as much of a part of who I am as...Sylvain or you are.” He commented off-handily. Suddenly her swordsman turned away and began to stammer. "Breakfast...we should leave for breakfast."

Confused by his behavior, Byleth stood in place. When her swordsman’s words finally sank in she jogged up to him but wasn’t sure what to say. Certainly, that had been an expression of affection but Byleth wasn’t sure how much Felix was a part of...whoever she was. That question was a hornet’s nest.

Once she caught up with her swordsman, Byleth grasped his shoulder causing him to stop in his tracks. Felix turned around, his face was tomato red and his hands were clamped shut. She knew if she verbalized how handsome she found him when he was flustered it would only fluster him more.

“That means...a lot to me." Byleth thanked him. "You don’t need to be flustered. When you say those things it makes me happy Felix.” 

Her swordsman gave no verbal response. Into her shoulder, Felix slumped his forehead and moved it side to side against her collarbone. Delicately Byleth pried his fists part and laced their fingers together. After a time Felix looked up at her, appearing more composed

To break the silence between them, Byleth asked a question as they descended the narrow staircase. "Why is the tower we're staying in called the green tower?" 

"The name comes from the greenhouse which tops the tower.” Felix explained as he pointed a finger above them. 

"Do you think I’d be allowed to roll my sleeves up and dig in?" She nearly beamed with excitement.

At Garreg Mach she had found solace in the not so simple task of caring for the monastery's rare plants. It had been comforting to dirty her hands with something other than blood. Usually, when something excited her, Felix dropped his stony exterior and smiled back at her. There was no such change to his expression.

"Not to disappoint you but Rosway’s greenhouse is little like Garreg Mach's conservatory." Felix murmured in a melancholy tone. "There aren't rare plants. The herbalist maintains the herbs within the greenhouse for medicinal and culinary purposes.”

"Felix, I enjoyed the physical work of gardening, not the rarity of the plants. It was nice having a quiet activity to clear my thoughts. The interesting flowers were just a bonus."

"Oh." Felix began to slow his pace as they neared the bottom of the landing. "I'll have the herbalist summoned when we visit the greenhouse then. I can’t make any promises that he’ll want the help"

At the bottom of the stairway, Felix stopped. As with every morning, they melted into one another’s embrace before unlocking the door that separated them from reality. Byleth nuzzled her head into the crook of her swordsman’s neck and felt him lean his own against hers. Contently she sighed and breathed in his scent. Absent was the smell of sweat, weapon oil, and dirt that she had associated with him. Away from the campaign he’d been bathing and shaving with a pine needle soap. Without the constant activity of marching or fighting the scent lingered well into the afternoon. As much as Byleth was certain they both missed the challenge of battle, the smell of pine was beginning to smell more like home than the stench of copper. 

After a small parting kiss, the pair passed through the training hall and exited into the innermost courtyard. Along a cobblestone path, they began to stroll in step. When Byleth first arrived at Rosway castle, the garden had still been dormant from the long Faerghus winter. Now green shoots were finally beginning to emerge from the soil and trees around them.

"Maybe Rosway will be green before we leave for Fhirdiad." She suggested as they passed by a potted bush. "Do you know what is growing in the garden or is that a question for the herbalist?"

At the academy, the young swordsman never showed an interest in gardening. But then again this was supposed to be his home.

"Only that the trees are varieties of apple. The ones along this pathway flower pink and the row near the library tastes the best." Felix reached back and scratched the back of his head. "The first time I climbed a tree, Glenn had to rescue me." Felix muttered under his breath. 

Felix had stated that he was willing to answer questions but for him to volunteer stories was unexpected. Byleth searched her memory for a relevant story to swap with her swordsman. While the former mercenary felt that she wasn't much of a storyteller, it was only fair that Felix was allowed to learn more about her where possible.

"I couldn't begin to count the number of skinned knees received from climbing trees and that persisted past my childhood. By far Morfis has the worst trees; the thorns scratch you up even if you are careful."

When the pair entered Rosway's great hall, they found it bustling with activity. Up into the vaulted ceiling, young boys hoisted teal banners adorned with the Crest of Fraldarius. Meanwhile, others scurried up ladders and unrolled thick, colorful, cloth down the stone walls. Stepping up on the dais at the end of the room, Byleth turned to admire it all. The hall was no longer an empty shell. Sunlight streamed from the second-floor windows and illuminated the bright, painting-like designs on the cloth. 

"They're beautiful." She whispered aloud to herself

"The tapestries? Heh, I told you Fódlanese weaving techniques were sought after." Felix stood next to her and half-smiled smugly. "Pleasant on the eyes and a necessary insulator no matter the season."

Before she and Felix could take their seats at the high table, the door behind it swung open. Dressed in a padded vest Lord Hughes stepped forward but did not make a move towards his seat.

"Felix." His uncle's normally jovial tone was serious. "Your mother has come down from her room. She requested your presence in the dining room."

* * *

On the short walk from the dais to the dining hall, Felix intently watched Byleth. For whatever reason, the normally confident woman he relied on gripped the air where the hilt of the Sword of the Creator would be if sheathed. It was odd. Among officers and soldiers alike she was regarded as a calming force. Upon the battlefield the Ashen Demon’s orders were absolute and her mere presence was known to rally troops. Within the command tent whenever the tactician proposed a strategy even his old man had not dared to interrupt her. 

“You’re nervous. Stop.” Felix unintentionally snapped with a biting tone. When Byleth lowered her head Felix immediately wished he hadn’t defaulted to such a rough tone. She was clearly uncomfortable about something. “You have no reason to be nervous.” He reassured her

Byleth kept her head lowered. Her eerie silence reminded Felix of the night he had denied her his secrets. In anger that night she had barely looked at him and her words had been brief. The swordsman's instinct screamed at him to take Byleth aside to check on her but Hughes was behind the two of them. 

His uncle cleared his throat. “So Miss Eisner, how much has my nephew told you about his mother?”

“Nothing.”

Just as Felix had feared her answer was monotone and brief. Fortunately, the current situation was straightforward. At her core, Byleth was a tactician. The more information she possessed, the better the decision she was able to make. He hoped that Byleth understood that the nonsense surrounding his father's death had swamped him. There had never been any attempt to hide information about his mother.

Stopping outside of the room, Felix took a deep breath before speaking again to control his tone. “What do you need to know?” He asked sincerely. “Beatrice Viola is my mother and the Duchess of Fraldarius.” 

“Dowager Duchess of Fraldarius.” Hughes corrected him before addressing Byleth. ”Dowager is the term for a widow who still possesses a title or property.”

Rolling his eyes, Felix sneered. “Have any more etiquette quips? Would you like to explain the proper way to hold a napkin next?” 

Finally, Byleth raised her head, her eyes had widened. "There is a _ proper _ way to hold a _ napkin _?"

"No!" He took another deep breath to steady himself and insisted. “Hughes, go inside and tell my mother we have a guest. Miss Eisner and I will be in shortly.” It was only after the door closed behind his uncle that Felix spoke again. “You’re worried...about etiquette. Don’t be a fool. You’re eating breakfast, not begging for supplies.”

“Eating breakfast with your _ mother _.” Felix swore he’d been corrected more times today than the past year. “Do I curtsey even in pants? How do I address her? This isn’t my world. I’m a commoner...not nobility. What if I say something wrong and she hates me. What if-”

“Stop. Byleth stop.” Without a second thought, Felix took the hand that still tried to grip the Sword of the Creator into his. “Breathe. There is no reason why my mother won’t like you. Hughes likes you already. And if she doesn’t...” He felt Byleth grip his thumb tightly. His default response was to reassure her that the person wouldn’t be worth her time. For the first time that would be a lie. “She won’t. So stop worrying about etiquette. It doesn't matter to me.” 

“Will it matter to her?”

“Yes.” It was an unfortunate truth. His mother was not as progressive as the Boar had been at the academy or his father had been in the command tent. “But you are not inferior to my mother even without your temporary position as archbishop. As for etiquette.” Felix reminded himself that he was doing this to make Byleth more comfortable. “Don’t bow. Address her as Duchess then ma’am. You drove me nuts when you called my old man ‘Your Grace’. If you get nervous about something just follow my lead.” 

The grip around his thumb loosen; Byleth was finally beginning to relax. Her chest moved with every deep breath she took. “I’ll be okay?”

“Obviously.” Felix brought Byleth’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckle. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll open the door.” After another deep breath. Byleth determinedly nodded her head. 

Located within the keep, the dining room was one of the few rooms on Castle Rosway’s ground floor with true outer windows. Certainly, this was due to the windows facing east towards the natural cliffside defense. Because of this, there was no concern that attackers would breach the delicate glass. 

To Felix’s irritation, when he entered the dining room it appeared darker than he remembered. The large windows which overlooked the ocean were covered with heavy black curtains. Whether that was because the pages had been instructed to leave the room in mourning or simply hadn't had a chance to exchange the curtains he couldn't tell. Regardless it left the wax candles on the pine table and the fireplace as the room's only light source. 

"Felix." From her place at the far end of the table, his mother addressed him. "Lord Hughes informed me that a guest is joining us? I thought they had all departed."

Felix took a moment to consider how to introduce Byleth to his mother. In his opinion, formal presentations were just a way for people to flaunt their self-importance. Still, in this case, he would only do Byleth a disservice if he did not play along. Turning his head, Felix watched Byleth enter the room. To his delight all traces of her previous discomfort had vanished; she held her head high. 

While his hand had been forced, Felix gave himself a concession when he introduced Byleth. “Mother, this is the **temporary** Archbishop of the Church of Seiros and the commander of their knights; Byleth Eisner." Both Hughes and his mother rose from their seats. "Miss Eisner, this is my mother; Dowager Duchess Beatrice Viola of Fraldarius."

"Duchess," Byleth stepped forward and addressed his mother in a steady tone. "It's nice to finally meet you. Your son has been assisting me as my unofficial right hand." 

Their eyes met briefly as Byleth sought guidance but his mother’s behavior puzzled Felix. As both the host and the technical inferior it was his mother’s role to approach the archbishop. Quickly, in order to prevent the situation from becoming awkward Felix directed Byleth to sit. He wondered why his mother was acting unlike herself but only one answer came to mind. His mother was upset with him for ambushing her with a guest. 

Sitting between his mother and Byleth, Felix explained the tactician's presence at Rosway. "Miss Eisner has been quartering here while planning the campaign after Fhirdiad is retaken." While there was more to the story he purposely avoided any sensitive details. "Her tactics are largely why the war against the Empire is slowly shifting in our favor."

Byleth to her credit picked up the conversation where he left it. Though she had already thanked Hughes previously, she thanked House Fraldarius for the use of its archives and for managing the scribes. 

Turning his head towards his mother, Felix expected her to at least acknowledge the archbishop's thanks. Instead, she sat in silence with her eyes closed. Unlike Byleth who naturally possessed muted emotions, he knew his mother was purposely hiding hers. 

Fortunately, Hughes began to lead the conversation when Byleth lulled out. As breakfast was served he asked about the trip she had made out to the city. Over bites of porridge and ham Felix mainly listened to their story, interjecting only to clarify the locations they visited. Otherwise, he tried to think what his mother and Byleth could possibly have in common. 

"Do you still remember the White Heron Cup?” He asked Byleth as silence again swept over the table.

Byleth placed her teacup down and crossed her arms. “I remember how unwilling most of you were to participate. His Highness begged me to not choose him. And you...if looks could kill—” 

“As if my participation would have helped.” Felix shook his head. “My mother was actually the Blue Lion’s representative when she and my old man went to Garreg Mach.” He paused and looked over to his mother, hoping she would step into the conversation.

His mother finally spoke but there was an edge to her voice. "It's understandable that you fell short. A professor with your background likely had no time for proper recreational pursuits. My son wrote that you were a terror on the battlefield." 

Lowering his hands under the table, Felix sank his fingers into his thighs. His mother's insult had been veiled. He wasn't surprised when Byleth had no reaction. After dealing with the Boar and his venomous often threatening language his mother's words were likely nothing. Still Felix felt furious on her behalf.

The moment the plates were cleared from the table Felix ushered Byleth through the dining room's side door but did not join her. He stomped back to the table, his fists gripped his long turtleneck. Hughes was nowhere to be seen.

"You've always bragged about House Fraldarius's hospitality. So. What. Was. That." He enunciated each word slowly.

"You brought a mercenary into our home." His mother calmly stated. "The academy might have passed that woman off as a professor but even the window dressing of archbishop cannot change a person's true nature. Mercenaries are all after one thing and you've seen it fit to give it to her."

"Excuse me?"

"I’ve seen the invoices, Felix Hugo. The dried fruit. The cider. The three thousand gold spent on a shipment of Leicester Cortania seemed quite odd considering you have no taste for the tea.” Felix tried to interrupt his mother but she ignored him. “Then today a bill arrived from our blacksmith; two thousand gold for armor repairs and five hundred gold for an item marked ‘dagger material’. For a boy who claims to enjoy the battlefield you’ve certainly enjoyed taking funds away from it.” 

"You're!" He began to shout but caught himself. "You're making accusations without knowing a thing about her. She's—"

"Different? Nonsense." His mother waved her hand dismissively which only served to make Felix’s blood boil. "Mercenaries serve only coin and once it dries up they move on. They know nothing of loyalty or virtue.” She looked at him with pity and her tone softened. “You’re the heir of House Fraldarius. Once this war is over Archbishop Rhea will again lead the church and you will be one of the most powerful men in Fódlan. That woman views you as nothing more than stability.”

When it appeared that his mother was finished speaking, Felix allowed the silence in the room to linger. Each response that came to his mind seemed to end with him storming away as the relationship between himself and his mother shattered. 

“Mother, that sense of stability has been mutual.“ He assured her. “She and I will win this war and then…” It felt idiotic to imagine a period of time likely years away. “For your own sake, you need to give Byleth a chance. Since you read the invoice from the blacksmith, you _know _what I intend to do.” As the color drained from his mother’s face, Felix felt a pang of guilt. His mother's actions had made him furious but at least her concern for him had been genuine. "I'm going to leave and give Byleth a tour of the castle. When you decide you want to have an open mind concerning her you're welcome to join us anytime."

Exiting the dining room, Felix expected to find Byleth seated on the keep's stairwell. Instead, he found her leaned up against the narrow hallway, staring into the darkness above her. She looked down at him when he shut the door.

"I'm sorry again." Felix neither remembered Byleth apologizing before nor suddenly possessed the energy to argue with her. "It feels wrong to pulse but if you think I could do better."

Rolling his eyes, Felix gave an exasperated sigh. "Byleth you're allowed to worry about three things; yourself, the war, and because I know I could never stop you...me. Don't worry about my mother, she'll come around and see you the way I do eventually." He stepped towards the stairwell and extended his hand towards her. "For now, if you still would like to see Rosway Castle, we have quite a bit of walking to do." 

After Byleth placed her hand within his own, she squeezed him reassuringly. It was just as he had told his mother; the sense of stability was mutual. While Felix had accepted he might never find the words to express what Byleth meant to him, today he had physical proof. All he had to do was stall long enough for the loggia to be prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: It is the 27th of the Great Tree Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter


	20. Another Perfect Tea Time  (Great Tree Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix takes a chance over tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First order of business; I was persuaded to publish my reference map of [Rosway Castle](https://twitter.com/saviana572/status/1248002450394468353/photo/1). If for whatever reason the floorplan inspires you, feel free to use it

With a lit lantern in his hand, Felix ascended the otherwise pitch-black staircase. To his relief, the meandering tour of the castle had so far gone according to plan. He and Byleth had wandered about; making official introductions to the household staff they came across as they visited the various parlors used to entertain guests as well as the wing where House Fraldarius conducted its business. It was there they had lingered the most. Within the audience chamber which held portraits of notable Fraldarius ancestors, Felix finally introduced Byleth to Glenn. He braced himself for the comparisons between them and even prompted her opinion on the matter. 

He was expecting some amount of pity from her considering how much being compared to Glenn annoyed him but her repose was, unexpected. "You're brothers, of course, you look similar. Wouldn't it be strange if you looked nothing alike?" Fortunately no one other than Byleth had been present to hear his snort. 

Through a hidden doorway in the wall was Felix's personal highlight. With the death of Duke Fraldarius, the castle was now slowly being catered to the next duke's tastes. His tastes. His first change had been to order his personal collection of swords to be removed from the cellars below for display in the household cabinet. Time spent with Byleth had always been enjoyable but to be able to share another one of his hobbies with someone who appreciated it had been special.

"Why is it so dark up here?" Byleth's voice bounced off the bare stone walls, bringing Felix back to the stairwell. At its top, he paused and held out his free hand. In the lantern light, he watched her hesitate.

"Take my hand Byleth. The top three floors of the keep are private. Only my mother, the chamberlain, and now myself have keys." Felix only continued once Byleth's hand was within his own. "It's dark up here because we're in the wardrobe. It's a storage space for the more expensive pieces my family owns." Byleth raised her eyebrow so he elaborated. "Think furs, silks, jewelry, as well as seasonal clothing."

"Oh? That means you have other clothes than your turtlenecks?" Byleth nudged his shoulder teasingly.

Rolling his eyes, Felix nudged her back. "Stick to tactics, jokes don't suit you. We're not up here for the wardrobe anyway, it's just the path we had to take." 

Pulling open the door, a rush of cool ocean air hit Felix's face. While not the highest building in Faerghus, Rosway's keep was the highest building in the dukedom. As the pair strolled along the wall walk, Byleth gazed over the parapet at the city beyond the castle walls. What made the two loggias unique from other rooms Felix had shown Byleth was the lack of solid outer walls. Instead, columned archways exposed the rooms to the open air and provided a view of the ocean. The first of the two was a sitting room with cushioned benches pressed against the solid inner wall.

The second loggia was prepared as he had ordered. Two cushioned chairs facing out towards the ocean flanked a metal table. Upon the table sat everything he needed to make tea. Biting his lip, Felix wondered if he had done enough. Romance had never been in his blood. Perhaps that wasn't quite right. Romance was always for the weak, it never had a place in his life or on his mind. He was certain that Sylvain and Glenn would be rolling their eyes at his pathetic attempt at it. His friend was known to fill rooms with flower varieties to insincerely woo females while Ingrid bragged his brother had her favorite flower on hand when he asked to court her. He had a suspicion Byleth's favorite flower was lavender based on the soap she used. However, the only way to confirm his suspicion would be to admit he had rooted through her personal belongings. _How am I supposed to bring that topic up? Byleth, how did you make weaving through conversation topics look so easy?_

With shaking hands, Felix began to prepare the tea to the best of his knowledge, which was limited. When he caught a whiff of the blend's aroma it seemed nutty rather than sweet to his pleasant surprise.

Looking up from his preparation, Felix watched Byleth sniff at the blend. Her eyes widened. "Leicester Cortania? Felix, I hope you didn't have to go out of your way for it." 

The smile that crossed her lips eased some of his doubt. 

"I didn't." The reply was a half-truth. _ He _hadn't gone out of _his _way. _ He _had simply demanded the tea be stocked, price gouging be damned. While the pair waited on the tea to steep, Felix remembered it was Byleth who led conversations when hosting others for tea. He blurted out the first question that came to mind. "From what you've seen, how do you like the castle?"

“Honestly?" Her questioning tone made Felix's stomach knot. He watched Byleth's chest rise as she took a deep breath. "The castle seems like a maze. It’s a little overwhelming. But I've enjoyed hearing stories about your life before we met."

"That was during a Great Tree Moon...wasn't it?" He quickly changed the subject. "When we met."

"I only remember that the company had a contract in the Kingdom." She shrugged and let out a long frustrated sigh. "My first impression of you wasn't entirely...positive."

Scratching the back of his neck, Felix admitted. "You were nothing more than a honed blade to me...I only _ hoped _ you could test me."

"I suppose some things never change." Byleth teased before adding. "At least I'm more than a honed blade to you now."

"Much more." He glanced down at the saddlebag placed at his feet. "When we fight together, it's different from everyone else. I trust that if something happens to me, Mercedes and Sylvain would do everything they can to keep me alive." He paused to gather his thoughts. "Even before I knew about your pulse, you're the only one I've ever trusted to keep me safe.”

The conversation between them certainly did not feel romantic but regardless Byleth appeared more relaxed than Felix had seen her in months. With a smile on her lips, her attention was split between the rolling tide and his eyes.

"I'm not sure if I understand the difference between the two." Without warning, she reached towards the teapot. "This should be finished steeping."

Narrowing his eyes Felix lunged his hand forward and grabbed the handle. "For once, just once. Let me try doing something nice for you." 

As if she had touched a hot surface, Byleth pulled her hand away. In shame, Felix hung his head and poured the tea. The sentiment behind his words had been genuine but the tone used dripped with the irritation he felt. Glancing at the saddlebag again, he clenched his eyes shut. His first attempt at romance had been sabotaged with only himself to blame. He had believed the former mercenary when she insisted they weren't made entirely of combat. Still, it often felt like the only area of his life where he was competent.

When Felix finally lifted his eyes Byleth was starting out towards the ocean, quietly sipping her tea. Taking a cue from Sylvain, he tried to apologize with flowery words. He stammered through phrases, forcing himself to find a string that didn't reek of insincerity. The smile on Byleth's face soon faded away.

"Byleth." He whispered in defeat. "When it comes to battle you're my only equal. Everything else." Felix shook his head and hoped she understood what he had left unsaid. "But I'm trying. You make me want to try...to be stronger." Inwardly he cringed at his word choice. He had always referred to strength as his physical skill. This was different. "Be better."

Finally, Byleth turned her gaze back towards him. For what seemed like an eternity she remained silent without a hint of emotion on her face. "It takes strength to admit a fault...but better doesn't mean not being yourself." Her hand reached out over the table. "If you want to apologize, say 'I'm sorry'. I'm not by your side for Sylvain's or Claude's silver tongue."

"I'm sorry. I'll work on my tone." 

Near the center of the table, their hands met. Without hesitation, Byleth covered his hand and gently stroked his knuckles with her fingertips. After a few moments of peace, Felix noticed her green eyes expectantly flicker between the full teacup in front of him and his own amber eyes. With the hand not lovingly pinned, he lifted the cup to his lips. Byleth leaned in, obviously waiting for a reaction. 

Closing his eyes to hide a possible negative reaction, Felix took a tiny sip. Much like the aroma, the taste was, fortunately, more nutty than sweet. As a second sip was taken, a wide smile broke out across Byleth's face. Over the course of two steepings, they reminisced about the academy then defaulted back to the war when the conversation slowed.

With his teacup nearly empty, Felix seized the opportunity the conversation gave him. "If we intend on staying on the campaign until the end, it could be another year before we can breathe this easily again. It could be years before anyone can plan for a future."

Solemnly she nodded her head. "We shouldn't be completely swamped with work in Derdriu Felix but I get your point. We'll have to go back to the way things were soon...so I need to enjoy it while it lasts."

Felix froze. _ What if nothing had to change? _That was unrealistic. No matter their circumstances, at times their roles would force them to look at each other objectively. The more responses that ran through his mind, the more insincere they began to sound. 

Jerking his hand out from underneath of Byleth's hand, Felix reached into the saddlebag. The sheathed dagger held within weighed heavily in his hand as he brought it to the center of the table. He tried to speak but his throat felt constricted.

Tugging his black turtleneck away from his neck, he managed to choke out. "It's yours."

Neither the dagger nor the sheath that Byleth pulled it from were visually impressive. There were no inlaid jewels, etched crests, or precious metals used. Really the only way to distinguish its owner was the black leather that both formed the sheath and wrapped around the dagger's grip.

"Felix, thank you." She began to test the blade's weight and balance point as she continued speaking. "When I get a personal stipend, I'll pay you back the best that I can. Does this mean my armor is ready as well?"

"Yes but…" The heat rose from his neck. "That's not. I won't let you. It's a gift." While not a lie it was nowhere near the truth. "Byleth. You truly are more than a honed blade to me."

Closing his eyes, Felix again reached his hand out towards Byleth as he searched for his own words to express his thoughts. This time hands slid both under and over his own. 

The words slowly trickled from his lips. "You're more than your tactics...your strength...your protection. You're…wise...patient...and the only woman who wears blood and dirt better than most women wear finery." After swallowing hard, Felix opened his eyes and gazed across the table. Despite the way he had verbally stumbled, Byleth's cheeks were dusted pink. He had finally done _something _right.

Although Felix knew what had been started needed to be finished, he wasn’t sure how._ A reliable blade is essential to everyday life here in the duchy._ **_No._**_ In the duchy, it’s tradition, albeit ridiculous, to give your intended a knife. _**_If it's ridiculous why are you doing it?_**_ I Felix Hugo, officially request to enter an agreement of courtship. _**_Ripping off Glenn now?_**

A soft voice broke through his thoughts. “Felix, calm down. Your hands are shaking."

From the top of his head to the tip of his toes, Felix felt overwhelmingly warm. "I...want a permanent place by your side." _ Please don't cast me aside when you no longer need my blade_. "Byleth...accept this blade and let me try...to court you." _ I won't let anyone steal you from me without a fight. _ "I love you." _ That dagger is your proof. _

Byleth's once tender green eyes widened with surprise. "I...love you too." Each time she blinked without another word, Felix felt his heart sink a little lower. “So when I accept, What changes between us?"

Felix resisted the urge to leap from his chair in relief; Byleth’s response had been _ when _ not _ if _. He could not, however, resist the urge to hold what was now essentially his. If for no other reason to guarantee this was no cruel dream. Rising from his chair, he closed the small gap then pulled the source of his strength and happiness into an embrace.

"Between you and I? Nothing. We'll continue to figure each other out and ensure that we work well together. The only difference is you know exactly where I stand...when it comes to us. There's more to the tradition...but it's unnecessary.”

A short huff of laughter escaped Byleth’s nose as she shook her head against his shoulder. “Then I accept your offer, Felix. Although now you have my curio—” 

The rest of the word was silenced by his lips. 

Within the time that they knew one another, Byleth had been considered many things. No matter what feats the former mercenary performed, the world would always partially know her as the Ashen Demon. His fellow Lions would likely always see her as their professor, no matter how long they were absent from a classroom. Until the campaign was completed, the army would see her as a fearsome commander and the tactical mastermind behind the recent achievements. Now for the first time, Felix had his own personal title to give Byleth, until he decided to change it again; his intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration comes from the following fact: Some of the Nordic countries have courtship customs involving knives. For example, in Finland when a girl came of age, her father let it be known that she was available for marriage. The girl would wear an empty sheath attached to her girdle. If a suitor liked the girl, he would put a puukko knife in the sheath, which the girl would keep if she was interested in him.
> 
> It took twenty chapters for Felix to say 'I love you'. Thanks you all for sticking with me during what must have been an annoyingly slow burn.
> 
> Note to self: It is the 27th of the Great Tree Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter


	21. The Boar Prince (Harpstring Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on the march to Fhirdiad, Dimitri visits Rosway.

It was Felix's opinion that the Boar only knew how to do two things well; kill viciously and ruin good things. Today, the beast had seemed determined to do the latter.

Within the ducal office, Felix had been dozing, using Byleth's lap as a pillow, when a herald pounded on the door with news of the Boar's imminent arrival. Curious about the beast's condition, his intended left to greet the Boar Prince. It was only after the swordsman grabbed his blades that he reluctantly tagged along.

During the traditional reception, Felix stood between Byleth and his mother who after curtseying low, lavished the Boar with praise. Sadly the undeserved hospitality towards the beast was expected. This was the standard treatment of House Fraldarius guests, not the cold silence shown towards Byleth.

"Felix," The Boar stood in front of him smiling, pretending to be a human. "I hope your rest has been well. It's been quite some time. I never properly expressed my condole—" 

"Save your empty words for someone who cares Boar. Why aren’t you on the march to Fhirdiad?” With his arms crossed, Felix glared at the beast.

The Boar grasped his gauntlets together. “The professor...suggested that the army should march through the Fraldarius Dukedom to avoid unnecessary battles.” _ Suggested my ass, I proofread that order. _ “I was unable to properly pay my respects to Lord Rodrigue.” _ Because you were practically foaming at the mouth to rush to Enbarr. _ “It seemed reasonable to correct my negligence with our forces nearby." _ Negligence? Your negligence was listening to the dead. _

Felix was unable to rebuke the Boar before he moved down the line to their former professor. The only other sensible human in the room, Byleth kept her head level with the beast who had threatened her throughout the campaign.

"Your Highness." Though she had addressed the Boar per his title, Byleth neither courtesied nor bowed her head in respect. 

To his right, Felix heard his mother clear her throat, likely displeased with the lack of decorum shown towards _ her _ guest. While Byleth physically tensed up, the Boar seemed to pay the sound no mind. 

"Professor." The Boar's lone eye roamed over Byleth, sizing her up. Though his intended seemed unbothered by the beast's action, Felix fought the urge to grip one of his blades as a warning. "My debt towards you will only increase from here I'm afraid. Sylvain and I drafted plans for the eventual retaking of Fhirdiad."

As Byleth placed her hands on her hips and stepped forward, her demeanor shifted. Though the Boar physically towered above her, the tactician's presence was still commanding. "And they _ will _ be finalized before you depart." She took a few long steps away from the greeting line. "After the capital is secure you'll be marching west to reunify Faerghus."

"Yes, professor." The Boar turned on his heel and began to follow a step behind the tactician. It was a sight Felix had often seen during his academy days; Byleth, the professor leading and the Boar, her student, content to be her shadow. "I assume you're situated in Lord Rodrigue's former office?" 

Quickly Felix moved to catch up to Byleth but was held in place by the back of his turtleneck. As the door shut behind the Boar, he angrily turned towards whom he suspected was his mother. Flared amber eyes and lips pursed into a straight line sent a shiver of dread down Felix’s spine. Unlike his own scowl, which he wore as often as a hair ribbon, she only did so if she was truly angry.

“Felix Hugo, your attitude towards His Highness was deplorable. Your brother and father did not sacrifice everything for you to ruin the reputation of House Fraldarius." It was an old argument. While his old man had only cared about duty, his mother only cared about social prestige. "You have not been a child for years, end your petty resentment. His Highness is not at fault for their deaths." As much as Felix wanted to inform his mother about Randolph and Fleche von Bergliez, the information was being purposely buried along with the Boar's madness. “Make things right; apologize to His Highness and give him the respect his station deserves."

Pulling away from his mother's grasp, Felix began to walk away with the promise he had made to Byleth on his mind. He had been giving the Boar the respect he deserved from the beginning. At least it had been more respect than the Boar had been giving others.  
  
“And have a word with _ your mercenary. S_he appeared to have forgotten who her betters are away from the battlefield. Perhaps instead of sparring, you should be teaching _ your _intended some actual etiquette.”

“Ah, that precious etiquette of yours. Only slightly less precious to you than the Boar was to the old man. Then again we were both on equal standing in that regard.” He huffed. “Mother, worry less about _ Byleth’s _etiquette and more about why I assure you, her etiquette was warranted. Then again my opinions never mattered to either you or the old man.” Exiting the room, Felix slammed the door behind him

* * *

Sitting at the center of the head table, Dimitri glanced down at the reflection of a strange man in the empty silver plate. Just like the monster he had seen occasionally in the reflection of weapons, the man possessed a single blue eye but otherwise appeared...human. 

Dimitri supposed he had the professor partly to thank. After the initial discussions on how to reorganize the army once Fhirdiad was retaken, she had practically shoved him into the baths following a visit to the infirmary. There the renowned hospitality of House Fraldarius had been on full display. The grooming he had long neglected had been hastily corrected by several ladies in waiting; both his hair and nails were scrubbed then trimmed. They had threatened to burn the ragged garments he had brought along but nothing within the castle fit his large frame. 

The sound of wood scraping against the dais caused Dimitri to look up from his reflection. Unsurprisingly the source of the ruckus was Felix, who glared daggers at the table before approaching the professor seated at one of the long tables below. Knowing his former friend, his demand was to spar her. 

"Your Highness," To Dimitri's left, Lady Beatrice placed down her goblet then closed her eyes. Her emotionless tone reminded him of the professor when she first had come to the academy. "I hope my son's behavior hasn't soured your opinion of House Fraldarius. Rodrigue and I always viewed you as our third son."

"We have certainly had our difficulties." It was a wonder to Dimitri that the monster he was had failed to push anyone away. His former friend's behavior was not only understandable but had been desired by the monster. "But he has always been a valuable ally just as Glenn and Lord Rodrigue were before him." When next he gazed forward the professor was absent. "Heh. Some things never change." 

"What things never change?"

Lord Rodrigue had often complained that Felix only sporadically wrote to him. Dimitri wondered how much his former friend's mother knew of their professor. 

"It was widely known that Felix essentially lived at Garreg Mach's training yard while we were at the academy. And the professor." He paused and tapped his fingertips on the table. "No matter how trivial the request, the professor never turned one of us away unless she was already assisting another student. Suffice to say, Felix took full advantage of her generosity.”

In their own way, each of the Lions had taken advantage of their professor's generosity, himself included. It hadn't only been the open invitation to spar or her long office hours to answer questions within the curriculum. The professor's unjudging ear was always available and her advice unbiased by politics. Try as the monster within had to push her away, the professor was always there.

"Thinking on it, the professor and I haven't had the opportunity to spar in years." Dimitri rose from his chair, careful not to accidentally scratch the floor below. "Your hospitality Lady Beatrice is always appreciated. If you would excuse me." The nod she gave as he stepped away from the table was strangely melancholy.

On the way to the training hall, Dimitri kept his eyes glued to the cobblestone path beneath his feet. Concentration was difficult enough with the still present whispers of the dead; guilting him for abandoning the path to Enbarr and admonishing him for following the will of the professor. He wasn't sure if he would be able to withstand Glenn's disappointed stare in the place that they had first met.

Though dulled by a heavy door, Dimitri heard two distinct voices and the clack of wooden swords as he stood outside of the training hall. He attempted to control his strength to lightly knock on the door but from the noise made, it came out as a pound. A muffed shout followed. It was Felix who eventually opened the door; huffing through his barred teeth.

"Boar." He snarled "What do you want here? Don't you have more lip-service to pay my mother?"

The similarities between the Fraldarius brothers were not physical alone. The older Felix had grown the more his personality matched his deceased brother. He picked fights for the sake of it and his sense of sarcasm was unmatched.

"I'm here for the same reason as you; to spar the professor." Dimitri offered before he stepped into the doorway and set his eyes on the professor. "I'm certain my form has suffered and I would appreciate her eye to correct it."

"No." His former friend tore off his gloves and tossed them towards the fireplace where the professor leaned. From the weapon rack, he grabbed a wooden lance and thrust it into Dimitri's grasp. "You'll spar me. Unless my brother is insisting I'm unworthy now." 

The moment Dimitri stepped into the ring, the Crest of Fraldarius on his former friend's hand flared. A blow from overhead was only narrowly blocked, forcibly shaking the lance. 

"Professor," The swipe that Dimitri made at his opponent's legs narrowly missed. “You’ve been absent from the campaign for nearly a month.” He carefully circled the outer ring, looking for another opportunity. “As kind as I’m sure House Fraldarius has treated you, your presence has been sorely missed. By all us of course.” 

The march from the Great Bridge of Myrddin to the Fraldarius Dukedom had been predictably dull but the news that trickled from Fhirdiad was disturbing. Reports from the professor dating from before the bridge coup had indicated that granaries throughout the former kingdom had been raided yet somehow there were still shortages within the capital. Additionally, whether fortunate or not, Fhirdhad’s garrison was reportedly Imperial instead of former subjects. Something wicked had brewed under the traitorous eye of Cornelia but there were too many puzzle pieces missing to understand the full story. 

“I’m sure.” The professor replied as Dimitri was forced to push Felix back with the lance’s stock. “But it's easier to concentrate without the constant travel. At least it's easier to read documents while not on horseback, Your Highness."

“There is no need for you to address me by my honorific.” Maneuvering around the ring, the professor came into his view. Dimitri locked his eye onto hers. “I’ve told you before; I am far more comfortable being addressed by my name."

Felix dipped out of his vision as the professor shook her head. "You need to earn that back; continue to fight against your sickness."

"Take this seriously Boar or leave the training hall." Dimitri's head snapped to where his opponent's voice came from. "You would waste our efforts by dying if you chatted this much in battle."

When he surged forward, Dimitri felt the muscles in his arms strain as the Crest of Blaiddyd activated itself. Wood splintered from both weapons with a thunder-like _crack_. Felix was pushed backward but only slightly thanks to his crest.

"Perhaps you should be taking your own advice, Felix." He joked with a laugh. "You were the one monopolizing the professor's time with chatter before I arrived."

Two strides separated Dimitri from his opponent who pulled back his sword arm. There had been no effort made to taunt Felix but the words had worked their way under his skin; he was broadcasting a lunge. 

Closing the distance, Dimitri leveled his lance with his former friend's chest. At this range, the longer lance held the advantage. He could certainly strike Felix safety before he was in danger.

Another thunderous _clack _ of wood echoed within the hall. The lance in Dimitri's hand was parried upward. To his confusion, the professor stood between his opponent and himself. Her unarmed hand clutched Felix's wrist, now pointed in the air. 

"What is the meaning of this?" Dimitri demanded as he lowered his weapon. 

It wasn't odd for the professor to appear where she was needed suddenly; it had been proven long ago that she was faster than any of the Lions in desperate times. However, she had never before physically interrupted a sparring match. Before the professor could response, Felix threw his wooden sword onto the ground, breaking the professor's grasp on his wrist. Muttering under his breath, his former friend stormed towards what had been his and Glenn's rooms.

* * *

With a tight pressure in her temples, Byleth trudged up the green tower's staircase at a snail's pace. While the former prince was making an honest attempt to control what he could of his illness, Felix was still intent on antagonizing him. 

Byleth at least appreciated her swordsman’s frustrations. 

Felix had ranted against ‘the Boar’ during their spar. How on each of 'the beast's' visits, he felt cast aside. That her removal from the dais had insulted him and how the list of things stolen from him now included their limited privacy together. Her swordsman was already on edge...and then the former prince had interrupted their spar. 

As Byleth stepped into the landing of the floor she and Felix had been staying, the door to the baths opened. Dressed in what he normally wore to bed with the addition of a towel covering his hair, her swordsman silently passed by.

"Lord Hughes came rushing into the training hall shortly after you stormed away." From what she understood about the Crest of Fraldarius, she expected that the crests held by both Fraldarius males had triggered. "You may want to explain what happened after you calm down."

"You pulsed Byleth." He stated oddly nonchalantly, ruffling the towel over his hair.

"You were casting thunder." When Felix had pulled his arm back there were only two possibilities. Either he was broadcasting a lunge (a novice mistake) or obviously gathering himself to cast a spell (a novice mistake). It was only thanks to his inexperience that she was able to react quickly before the sparks on his fingertips manifested into something potentially deadly. “You haven’t attempted to target me in our sessions and we both know why.”

Felix turned and lowered the towel to his shoulders “Do we?” She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for his full response. This was one instance where she could not allow him to sulk away. “I would never want to actually harm you.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Is Professor Eisner going to lecture me now on my reckless behavior against everyone’s precious Highness, or am I excused?”

"It was reckless but I’m still on your side." Eliminating the space between them, Byleth cupped her swordsman's cheeks. Even through his linen nightshirt and pants, Felix radiated a pleasant warmth from his bath. She pressed a soft kiss against his lips. "We never finished our conversation. Why not just tell His Highness that you're courting me? We're courting?" She shook her head, brushing her nose against his chin. "Whatever the 'proper' phrase is. Let him know we need our privacy?"

Felix scoffed at her suggestion, his amber eyes were knit with worry. "The Boar is back to pretending he's human, I'll give you that. How long until he gives into 'the dead' again? Do we trust him with that information?"

"I'm not following, Felix." 

"The Boar threatened everyone who stood up to his delusion. Yes, he never did anything physical but the way he twisted facts." Her hands were enveloped by warmth as Felix covered then with his own. "I'm glad you had the sense to not outright forgive him after everything he's put you through."

When Byleth considered her swordsman's words, she understood his hesitation. Nothing had seemed off-limits to the former prince whenever she opposed his will, no matter how personally painful. 

"You think in his madness he's capable of turning us against one another.” Byleth reasoned.

"I think in his madness the Boar is willing to say whatever it takes, true or not, to get his way...to appease the 'dead'. I don't want to imagine how...our relationship could be used against us." When she lowered her head in disappointment, Felix placed a hand on her back. "After the siege is established, we can finally leave for Derdriu, assuming all your business is complete. Who do you suppose will sniff us out first; Claude or Hilda?" 

Into Felix's shoulder, she stifled a chuckle then turned her head to meet his small smile. “You really can’t scowl either of those two away. At least Claude could keep a secret; all of Fódlan will know by nightfall when Hilda finds out.”

Side to side Felix began to gently rock them, nearly but not quite like he had danced with her before. A kiss was planted on the crown of her head and then her forehead before Byleth met Felix’s lips with her own. She became lost in his lips until the hand not resting upon her back moved to her shoulder. His thumb found the divot in her shoulder though it was covered. She had no proof but it was as if her swordsman used her scars as some sort of map.

Briefly, Felix parted his lips but pulled away when she leaned in to accept his invitation. She instead nipped at his bottom lip with her teeth. If her swordsman insisted on being difficult, two could play at that game.

"I should probably bathe before we settle down for bed." Around his neck, she wrapped her arms and waited for his response.

A murmur left his lips when they finally parted. "Do you trust me Byleth?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: It is the 6th of the Harpstring Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter


	22. A Learning Experience (NSFW) (Harpstring Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Byleth take a step in their relationship.

With his and Byleth’s lips incessantly pressed against one another’s, Felix felt content. He had been genuinely concerned that an argument with Byleth would follow a lecture from ‘Professor Esiner’. Never before had he been so glad to be wrong. Recently the Boar had stolen much which made everything he had left feel more dear. Of that Byleth was one of the few things with a physical form. He could see his intended by his side, knowing he wasn’t alone. He could smell the lavender to remind himself he wasn’t dreaming. He could taste her on his lips, satiating his addiction to them. And he could touch her, hold her and lean on her, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had with another person.

As easily as the blood that pumped through his veins, warmth flowed through Felix’s body. It was neither from the bath he had taken nor from any embarrassment. Allowing himself to be pulled along the warm current, Felix closed his eyes and placed his hand on Byleth’s shoulder. The divot beneath her black blouse was not visible but the swordsman knew the former mercenary’s scars nearly as well as his own. 

Unlike his own, Felix knew exactly what attention to Byleth’s scars did to her. If he dared he could push the fabric away and minster to the divot with his lips or dip down to her collarbone just below it. Both options had the same result; his intended sighing softly until she became putty in his arms. 

Pressing his fingers gently into the groove of a scar on her back, Felix parted his lips.

_ But what about afterward? _

If he did nothing, they would inevitably part, clinging to the electricity filled air around them for breath. To bed, they would then retire and intimately entangle their limbs together. Yet after today that intimacy no longer felt like enough.

_ Where do we go from here? _

From the raunchy stories Sylvain had forced upon him, Felix had an inkling. However, it was one thing to swing a sword and another to wield it masterfully. Unable to dispel the doubt concerning his inexperience, Felix pulled away from his intended. Byleth had insisted she was by his side for the traits he possessed but what good was a sexual partner whose sole partner was his own hand. 

A strange mixture of arousal with just a of hint pain suddenly jolted through his lip and down his spine. Felix's eyes involuntarily flung open. Half-lidded green eyes sat above pink-dusted cheeks

"I should probably bathe before we settle down for bed." She threatened in a matter of fact tone. 

Then her arms wrapped around his neck. Under his still-damp hair, her fingertips lightly pressed into his skin. Felix reinterpreted the intent of her words; Byleth had coyly teased him. They _ were _ on the same page. Still considering his record with moments that were supposed to be romantic...there was no telling how'd he manage to bungle this. 

Felix's voice left his throat barely more than a whisper. "Do you trust me Byleth?"

His intended slowly cocked her head to the side. If anyone ever discovered how warm many of her expressions made him feel, people would accuse him of being soft. 

"You know the answer to that." 

Before Felix could chide Byleth over her non-answer, his hand was covered by hers. Down the black material, she led his fingers into the valley of her breasts. Until she pressed their foreheads together and his palm against her unbeating heart. As little experience as he possessed, Felix was no idiot. The gesture was not only a touching answer but her invitation to him. 

Into the slit of the black blouse, between its buttons, Felix inched his fingers. An uncomfortable heat rose up his ears, but he fought the feeling of embarrassment off. Everything from the swell of her breast to the feel of her hands gliding down his spine felt too right not to. Instead, Felix took a gamble. With his thumb, he toyed with the edge of a bone button. Under his nightshirt, a cool sensation ran over the skin of his lower back.

The towel that had been around Felix’s neck fell to the floor. 

Manhandling the stubborn buttons, Felix felt his body move backward but he couldn’t tell if he was guiding or being guided. With each careful step, Byleth's black blouse parted further, revealing her creamy skin underneath. Another prick of pain and he found his lips held captive in a kiss that sent the electricity in the air straight to his brain. 

Backing into something solid, Felix was shaken out of his haze. Fire-filled lungs heaved for air in the small space between their separated lips. Which of them had managed to open the door to their room mattered less to Felix than the overwhelming urge to touch the bare skin he had won. Harshly, he gripped the curve of his intended's hips and hoisted himself away from the wall. Only a few steps separated them from the bed, the process of each step became more challenging than the last. Pressed up entirely against Byleth, he felt her muscles tighten when he attempted to guide her to the mattress. Only to have the gall to make a similar attempt to topple him afterward. _ If we're grappling, Byleth. _

On the next step, he forced his leg behind Byleth’s. This time when Felix pressed her downwards, she lost her balance and tumbled, landing on her back. From his position of victory on top of Byleth, he propped himself up on his elbow and drank in the sight below. Fully unbuttoned, the black blouse bunched up underneath his intended's back. The only hidden skin now were her breasts which lay beneath the thin black material of her bra.

The possibilities at his fingertips were endless. He could kiss his way down her neck then explore the newly exposed skin with his lips. _ Maybe my fingers would be more efficient? How does this thing come off? Should I even be the one to take it off? _

"Felix?" _ I just ruined things again didn't I? _"Are you okay?" 

He didn't dare look at Byleth as he lied. "Of course." 

It was now or never. Pushing images of how Sylvain would proceed away, Felix lowered his head, pressed his lips against Byleth's quickened pulse. She let out a quiet but long sigh when he scraped his teeth down a tendon. 

Her scarred shoulders and arms were packed with muscle from her years of dedication to the blade. Felix couldn't help but admire the way the firm scar-marked flesh tensed with every touch of his lip or drag of his tongue or teeth. Unable...unwilling to maintain eye contact he focused on that and other clues his intended's body offered as he continued his exploration. Each audible noise and pleasant scratch of nail into his back he mentally noted. 

For as tough as a woman as he knew Byleth to be there was a certain softness to much of her unmapped body. The lower Felix's lips trailed the more he was able to press into and grasp the flesh. His intended squirmed under his attention, lifting her hips...inviting him to stay. 

When the raised bone of her hips met his tongue Felix stopped. He was eye-level with the drawstring of her riding pants. _ This is what we both want...right? This is still okay? _

Admitting defeat, he lifted his head and gazed up at Byleth. Even her eyelids which hid the green eyes he desperately needed to see seemed tinted pink.

"Byleth?" Felix asked with an unintentional tremble in his voice. 

Green eyes barely fluttered open. Her answer, rather the sound that rumbled in her throat was unrecognizable. The black blouse pooled at her wrists when Byleth propped herself up at the joint. As she began to discard the fabric, Felix realized how uneven their state of undress was. While his intended was mostly bare below him, his nightshirt remained bunched up below his shoulder blades. Maintaining his balance while ridding himself of the garment proved difficult, however. Each time he tried to free his head, he felt as if he was going to plummet onto Byleth, crushing her.

A shiver ran down Felix’s spine as rough fingertips ran up it. He felt a tug on the material, to his frustration. Yet as soon as his head was freed that feeling was quickly replaced. The bra that had menaced him was gone. Supple globes that jiggled with each breath lay just out of reach. He flung the nightshirt away eager to compare the softness of her breasts to the rest of her body. However, he was thwarted by Byleth and her slender fingers. 

"Don't. Stop." He heard her spot out between pants.

Tangling into his hair and gently kneading into his scalp, Byleth prodded Felix back to where he had started. Alongside him, her other hand sank and unlaced the drawstring of her pants. Mouthing at her hip, he tucked his fingers under the loosened fabric and inched the layers he found down. His jaw dropped at the sight of mint green curls. 

A downward nudge on his head guided him to follow the fabric with his lips. Felix eyed her slickened folds as he passed by, nibbling gently on her muscular yet somehow soft inner thigh. Tentatively removing a hand from its work, he dipped the pad of his thumb just into the damp heat. It fascinated and aroused him the way Byleth’s body reacted to his unpracticed touch. The way she ground down onto his thumb and how the sounds from above seemed to grow more desperate with every swipe. 

After pausing to discard Byleth's riding pants, he lowered his head and set his attention on her puffy, pink flesh. To calm himself, Felix took a deep breath. On his inhale, he found something more addicting than the feel of his intended's lips against his own; the scent of her sex. On his exhale, he felt her shiver. Between basic anatomy and Sylvain’s stories, Felix at least knew where his touch was likely desired. However, he was not prepared for how easily his finger slipped into her glistening slit. In and out his digit moved carefully.

"Felix?" She eventually asked with much less desire than he'd hope to hear alongside his name. "Curl your finger just a little bit." 

Felix complied. At her request, he added a second finger to the first and rubbed along the bumps of her sex. A low moan from above rewarded him for his efforts. He couldn't help the wolfish grin that spread across his face. Byleth's hips soon moved to meet his thrusts. It took a few moments but together they found a rhythm. Felix couldn't help but look up when the moan from above was his name. The woman he loved seemed enthralled by their combined effort. While her glassy eyes stared at the canopy above, her mouth lolled open around the sounds that bolstered both his confidence and cock. 

The hand that had been in Felix's hair shifted. It came to rest on the nub of flesh just above his soaked digits. His eyes flickered between the movement of Byleth's fingers and her face capturing as much as he could. 

As Byleth arched her back, Felix's fingers suddenly felt clamped by her inner walls. He swore he heard his name through her teeth which bit down on her lower lip.

Byleth’s face suddenly twisted. "Need you to stop." As Felix removed his fingers, a soft groan seeped through her teeth. "Give me a second.” The exhale through her pursed lips was long as he wiped his fingers off on the sheets. “To take care of you.”

Felix crawled up the bed and came to rest beside his intended. He cupped her cheek, turning her head to face him. “Was that alright?” He asked, stroking her cheek. 

“Mmhmm.” She hummed. “You figured it out. You don’t think less of me now, right? I’ve always been worried about moving too soon. I don’t want you to ever think I’m after your ‘crest babies’.”

Felix snorted. “Then Sylvain lives in your head as well. Honestly Byleth, I was worried too. I didn’t want to screw this up. You’re the first woman I’ve…” There were so many ways to end the sentence. Byleth was, of course, his first partner in both life and sex. However more than that she was the first woman he saw a future with no matter how distant that seemed. “You’re incredible.” He moved closer to kiss her reddened lips.

A wide smile spread across her still flushed face. “I guess now I’ll have to settle for being mistaken as your lover.” Felix opened his mouth to tell her off for bringing his teenage antics up. Then Byleth crooked a finger under his jaw. The back and forth motion that followed was comforting but the fire in her eyes made him gulp. “Tell me what I need to do to make you feel good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual note from my Google Doc: "Will you two just get to the smut -_-"
> 
> As with any chapter, your feedback is deeply appreciated. I feel that smut is certainly still a weak point for me so criticism is welcome. If you don't feel comfortable posting a comment criticizing the smut publicly, feel free to send me a message on Twitter. I do my best to respond to everyone the best that I can.


	23. A Farewell to Peace (Harpstring Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discission on traditons.

Leaned against the railing of the arched balcony which overlooked the great hall, Byleth scanned over a series of documents. During supper, a messenger had arrived with a sealed package for 'Archbishop Eisner'. She had only recently gotten a chance to read over the documents within.

“So what’s the news from Fhirdiad, _ Miss Eisner _.”

She didn't need to raise her eyes from the report to recognize Felix's voice.

"His Highness and the dukedom's army relieved the Knights of Seiros. Unfortunately, all that is left is to wait for sickness or starvation to grip the capital." She bluntly stated as she folded the papers. "There are a few lines in there about our scouts intercepting some scouts from House Mateus...but I can deal with that tomorrow. I wonder where they'll be interrogated." 

"I thought you were leaving it for tomorrow." He teased as she pushed herself off of the railing. "Tch. Come on, I need your help in the courtyard to set up targets. The sooner that-"

A string of harmonious sounds fluttered through the air. Short, sharp, and quick the melody grabbed Byleth's attention. The closer she drew to the music parlor the louder the song became. As quiet as she was able, the former mercenary cracked the door open. Inches above her hand, Felix placed his own.

"We're allowed to go inside Byleth." Felix whispered before he pushed the door completely open.

When he entered without another word, Byleth had no choice but to follow behind him. As the threshold was crossed, she noticed the music came from a large piano that Felix's mother played upon. To her relief, the duchess seemed to continue the song to its natural conclusion.

"That was beautiful." She took a step towards the piano and paused. "What exactly was that?"

Cold amber eyes peered over the music stand."It was a traditional Faerghus waltz." The duchess flipped through the sheets of music until she ran her fingers over the piece she settled upon. "My son should be able to name the piece for you, he's played it before." 

Strange enough Felix had never hinted that he ever played an instrument, even during their tour of the castle. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, his eyes were scrunched closed. Curiosity outweighed the pity she felt. 

There were so many questions she wanted to ask. What felt like a natural start was: "You play?"

"No? In the past?" He stammered before covering his forehead. "Poorly. Not piano...violin. It's been years. It's senseless now."

"Nothing you enjoyed is senseless. If you enjoyed it." She corrected herself. When Felix didn't reply she changed the subject. "I'd still like to know about the song. My experience with Fódlanese music has been mostly hymnals and the winter ball." She intentionally neglected to mention tavern songs she had drank to.

"It was 'Under Cethleann's Gaze'." He spat out. "And all practicing did was get in the way of training. Can you honestly tell me you would have traded your sword for a bow or keys Byleth."

"Who knows. I didn't exactly have the opportunities you did Felix. I discovered many of my hobbies while I was teaching." She reminded him and added. “I know so little of Fódlan and Faerghus. While you’re all fighting for your home...I’m only fighting for all of you.” 

Realized her rambling was interrupting the duchess’ evening, Byleth bit the inside of her lip and walked away.

"The Archbishop of the Church of Seiros would know that it is rude to leave without requesting permission." A series of deep chords vibrated through the air. Slowly those same notes became airy and somehow familiar. "Son, why not take a night away from the war. It would be wise to give…our guest a few more glimpses of what is being defended.”

When Byleth turned, only for Felix to take her hand into his, the melody clicked into place. As if transported back into time, she could nearly hear the accompaniment of strings alongside the soft rustling of ballgowns across the floor. That evening Claude von Reigan had confidently led her to the middle of the floor with his practiced smile. In all honesty, Byleth couldn't recall Felix's whereabouts that night. Other than their awkward encounter at the goddess tower, they had only shared one...slightly less awkward dance the night of the winter ball. 

Strange enough while she vividly remembered her first dance of the night she couldn't recall the music that had accompanied their first dance.

Felix Fraldarius was a vastly different man now. The hand that did not hold her own molded to her hip. Amber eyes peered into hers whereas that night he refused to make eye-contact. Each step of the dance he gently guided her hip in the direction she was needed.

“The traditions of Faerghus likely haven't been observed in years because of the war. Even then most of the celebrations revolved around stuffy balls. I told you about New Year's." He shook his head. "The rest of the year it's more of the same; disturbances to the routine alongside guests who only come because it's expected."

"Traditions such as those 'stuffy balls' hold people together." The tension in the room became palpable as the duchess's voice rose above the music. "They only occur on major occasions and are necessary to foster bonds between the vassals. If not for the war, there would be one around the corner.

Craning her neck towards the piano she asked: "Do you mean the Blessings of the Land? I remember it being mentioned but I don't remember it being celebrated at the academy."

To Byleth's surprise, the duchess answered. "Indeed. The winters of Faerghus are inhospitable at best. Roads become covered in deep snow, making travel deadly. Even without the war, food and wood must be considered more carefully in order to make it through the season. The ball would celebrate the end of the planting season with the hope that it was successful."

It wasn't until her tenure at the academy that Byleth had first seen snow. Before then most of her life had been spent in arid climates. She knew from what her Lions had mentioned that Faerghus was cold and unforgiving. Considering how the mercenaries around her celebrated something as simple as the completion of contact, it made sense to celebrate the end of hardship.

Byleth was unable to express that opinion. She felt Felix firmly squeeze her hip, directing her attention back to him. Though the music continued, Felix halted its steps. “I can agree to disagree with you on that matter. At least that Fraldarius tradition hasn’t actively tried to kill our bloodline.” Even without a practiced ear, Byleth could hear the piano’s sour note. “And why? So that House Blaiddyd shows us just a bit more favor? Because history tells us we must?"

“Felix.” Bylleth squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. 

For a moment he stopped and blew out air from in-between his grit teeth. “We’re meant to learn from history not blindly repeat it." Felix mumbled. After a beat, his guidance on her hip resumed. "I don’t suppose you and your father had any traditions considering the lifestyle you led.”

When Byleth began to reflect on her career as a mercenary she had to admit. “I’m not sure. We were hardly ever in the same place with the same people. Traditions...traditions. Whenever papa and I discussed how to complete a contact we had a few drinks. I guess our relationship was more professional than what it should have been.”

"I suppose we're quite the pair in that regard; both with deceased fathers who left while their relationships were less than ideal." The final notes of the song drifted through the room. Felix leaned in and whispered into her ear. "If you ever need to talk about your father. I'm here for you as much as you've been here for me."

She lowered her voice to match his. "I've never done this before but I imagine that's one of the points of this relationship thing." It was tempting, so tempting to kiss the cheek that lingered near her own. However, they had an audience. "I think I remember that song from the winter ball." 

Byleth was forced to hold back a frown when Felix removed his hands and stepped back. "It's _ creatively _ called 'The Night of the Ball'. You would think composers would attach less obvious names to their works."

Again she considered asking Felix if he remembered their first dance but decided against it. In all likelihood, he would be just as stumped as she was. "Maybe once this is over you'd be willing to play for me once?" 

"I can't guarantee you'll enjoy it. I remember more how Glenn and I used the bows as pretend swords than any songs I was supposed to learn. But I'll try.” Something about that premise made Byleth feel lighter than air. While the timeframe for the end of the war was vague, there were now two solid promises waiting for her at its end. She felt Felix’s hand come to rest upon her lower back. He guided her alongside him to the piano. “Thank you for the music, mother. Maybe you’d like to join us for tea and continue the conversation?” 

“Felix, I—”

“Join us for tea and continue the conversation.” His bark of an order surprised Byleth. 

Her swordsman was known for his skill on the battlefield not his presence as a commander. While Byleth understood his continual frustration concerning his mother, there was little that could be done about it. One of her two reputations, either as the Ashen Demon or ‘Professor’ would likely always precede her. 

"I've been told I'm skilled at making tea." Byleth offered. "And I would like to know more about the dukedom aside from its military." When she leaned some of her weight against Felix, he didn't move away. "Felix never really explained this whole courtship thing."

Before her swordsman's face flushed red, Byleth felt his body stiffen. "You really want to know.” An exasperated sigh left his lips as he shook his head. “Fine...but you can’t laugh. I’m sure you’ll agree with me that blades are more than weapons, they’re tools. Necessary as air for survival. If you’re not carrying one you’re an idiot.” She felt Felix’s hand slide over her back and rest on the grip of the sheathed dagger he had given her. She fought the instinct that told her to wield the dagger in response. “Uh, so when you accepted my blade...you declared yourself mine.”

After waiting a few moments for him to continue Byleth was baffled. “How is that unnecessary?” Her swordsman turned on his heel and began to scurry away. "Felix...Hugo…Fraldarius." Exasperated, she let out a heavy sigh.

He stopped and snapped straight as a loosed bowstring. "Because I'm a member of House Fraldarius, you've fallen under its protection...in both a legal and physical sense. For you...above anyone I've ever met that protection is unnecessary.” Silently, Byleth crept up to her swordsman and placed a hand on his shoulder. While she had indeed found the initial idea of being protected by House Fraldarous funny, it was touching why Felix found the tradition unnecessary. “Still, should you ever need to...it is your right to wield the resources and influence of House Fraldarous as your personal shield.” When the deep red left his face, he turned his head. “That’s all there is to the tradition, Byleth. I’d like to have that tea now.”

* * *

As the warm, morning sun shone through the large windows of the great hall, Felix drowsily stabbed at the remaining waffles and eggs on his plate. Though it had taken years of combat he finally regretted a decision. The previous night he had ignored Byleth's advice to go easy on himself when it came to training with reason. Still, the progress he had made was worth every tired ache in his mind and body. While his former professor had constantly critiqued his casting form, he was finally beginning to have an eye to accurately hit ranged targets. 

After suppressing a yawn with his fist, Felix reached out for his cup of tea. Without turning his head, he gazed at Byleth. The green eyes that put him at ease were closed as she slipped her tea. Yet it was that very look that stirred a calming sense of adoration within him. Their eyes only met for a moment when hers opened. A ruckus erupted from below the dais. It was normal for messengers, clad in the pure white of the Church of Seiros, to deliver briefings to Rosway. It was abnormal for said messengers to sprint into a room.

“Archbishop Eisner,” The young boy bowed directly in front of Byleth. The blue wax on the single page of paper meant only one thing; the Boar wanted something. “An urgent report from Fhirdiad.”

After knocking back the rest of her tea, Byleth opened the seal with the dagger she had been given. Within seconds, her peaceful expression vanished. Her eyes narrowed. It had been a month but he knew her tells far too well.

The Ashen Demon pushed herself from the table, sending her chair clattering to the ground. The hall filled with murmurs but predictably she paid it no mind. Across the table, she slid the single piece of paper. 

“We’re leaving.” Was all the Ashen Demon said before she strode away. 

As quickly as his eyes allowed, Felix scanned the page. The unrest in Fhirdiad had boiled over, leading to a rebellion within the city. The final piece of good news was that the gatehouse had been overrun and opened by the mob. Yet the trend of strange complications on the battlefield continued. This time it was neither man nor beast that posed a challenge. It was metal. 

"Felix," His mother whispered as he folded the paper for safekeeping. "What happened?"

"War happened." There was no need in Felix's opinion to elaborate. "We need to leave before we're left with only the cleanup."

She placed her hand on his wrist. "House Fraldarius has given _everything _to this war. Does it really need to take you as well? Consider staying...please. If this is about _her_ I’m certain the archbishop will be well protected by the Church of Seiros. You don’t need to lay your life down for her.”

So absurd was his mother’s statement that Felix couldn’t help but laugh heartily. "You knew this was temporary.” He coughed into the arm of his turtleneck as his laughter subsided. He continued to whisper. “Mother, believe me. Byleth wouldn’t allow me to die for her if I needed to. I’d have to fight her first and I would be at a massive disadvantage. She and I will either see the end of this war together or not at all.” He placed his hand over his mother’s and softly squeezed it. “I need to go now.”

Within the hour their saddlebags were packed and loaded upon a pair of pegasi. Felix was unsurprised to see both his mother and uncle present to see him off but was unprepared for how frightened his mother appeared. It soon became clear why. 

His mother approached the pegasus that Byleth was already mounted upon with her head bent low. With her black armor and emotionless expression staring straight ahead, she looked every bit the intimidating Ashen Demon that their enemies would soon have to contend with. 

"Your Grace," Shockingly, his mother had addressed Byleth by her formal title. "I...we do not share the same values. But please.” She sniffled sadly. “Watch over my son. Bring him home safely."

Byleth’s demeanor did not change. Her blank eyes only flicked over to the side momentarily before she gave the smallest of nods. Then the order to lift off was given. The last thing Felix felt before it was his own turn to fly was his mother’s arms trembling around his neck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dowager Duchess of Fraldarius Beatrice Viola  
Political marriage. Bears unimportant minor crest. Met Rod at Garreg Mach  
Stereotypical 'Lady of House'  
Musically inclined. Plays piano, sang to sons, and entered Heron Cup  
More affectionate than Rod or Felix. Comforted 'cry baby' Felix  
Bitter about the House duty after Glenn. She will ask Felix to consider staying when its time to leave.  
She is vaguely aware that her son has an attachment to his professor after he mourned her. His feelings are confirmed when he smiles while she is around.  
Mostly ignores her son being..him. She only uses a sharp tongue in anger.
> 
> Byleth worries her. It's suspicious that a common rose so quickly. Worries Byleth is after the status and wealth of the House.
> 
> Note to self: It is the 13th of the Harpstring Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter


	24. The Struggle in Fhirdiad (Harpstring Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Byleth rejoin the campaign to retake Fódlan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is my birthday! My gift to all of you is the completion of chapter twenty-four and the assurance that I managed to figure out a good chunk of the remaining outline. With the chaos around me, a break was sorely needed.

The cobbled streets of Fhirdiad were stained with a gruesome shade of black and red. With a load of saddlebags hoisted over his shoulders and a loaf of bread in his hand, Felix dragged his tired limbs down an alleyway.

Despite the lengthy flight, when he and Byleth had arrived the battle was still undecided. Hulking metal constructs roamed the heavily damaged city emitting a hair-raising grinding noise that had drowned out Felix’s thoughts. Side by side they had fought but to no avail. Not even the fabled Sword of the Creator seemed to make a dent into its unnatural foes. A distraction. All they had been able to contribute to the battle was a distraction; running and dodging while others fervently searched for a weakness. The sun was low in the sky when a blast of thunder finally found its mark. By the time the grinding gave way to the groans of the wounded the moon lit his path. 

Unfortunately, while the city of Fhirdiad had been retaken, the castle and its defenses still stood firm. Because of the rampant destruction, it was a struggle to find adequate shelter for the army without pulling out of the city. Many of the soldiers he passed dozed in near rubble. Fortunately, a tavern that was only battered was Felix’s destination. It had been chosen as the officer’s headquarters for its distance away from the castle. It seemed close enough that a quick response could be mustered if the defenses could be cracked, while still far enough away that the defenders could not target it. 

Felix pressed his shoulder against the tavern’s door which was only just on its hinges. His eyes immediately fixed themselves upon Byleth. She sat where he had left her; seated at a round table in the corner with her back against the wall. Parchment littered the table, much of it crumpled into balls. Making his way to the table, Felix stepped over several officers and fellow Lions who slept upon the wooden floor. 

Before he had a chance to place the saddlebags down, Byleth lifted her head from whatever she had been writing. The deep frown that she had worn since the reports began to file in faded as he eased himself into a chair next to her. 

“Thank you.” She whispered then pointed to the loaf with the feather of her quill. “Is that dinner?” 

Cautiously he glanced around the tavern. While the exact number had not been confirmed, it was obvious that their forces had suffered heavy casualties thanks to their inability to deal with the constructs swiftly. It was likely only because the city had been secured that morale was not completely shattered. 

He nodded. “There are concerns that distributing hot food to our soldiers will incite a riot. Starving peasants tend to make situations volatile." Even before attending Garreg Mach Felix had seen his share of conflicts when he served as a squire. Yet his personal experiences paled in comparison to the crises he'd studied. "What do you know about the plague that Faerghus faced?"

The frown on Byleth’s face returned as she redirected her attention back to her work. "Only the fact that it happened and that by halting the spread Cornelia _ apparently _gained enough influence to usurp." 

Inching his chair closer, Felix dug through the saddlebags for the dried fruit “Of course, the plague occurred before I was born. It is common knowledge, however, that Fhirdiad was frankly devastated by it. Neither merchant nor farmer dared to visit in fear of falling ill which...over time...depleted the storehouses and eventually led to bread riots.”

As grisly as the situation around them was, Felix felt a smile tug at his lips. He had learned much from his former professor and only rarely found himself in the position to teach her anything _interesting _in payment. 

“Lambert was the king at the time correct?” Felix nodded at her question. “So he hired Cornelia who stopped the plague...somehow. More importantly; how did he deal with the riots?”

“The same way House Blaiddyd has dealt with many of their issues.” Felix scoffed loudly and felt irritated eyes upon him. He made a mental note to keep his volume low. “His Majesty called upon House Fraldarious and my old man, lacking self-preservation even then, mustered troops.” _ Then again if my father hadn’t stepped in, the work in the capital to save it never would have happened. _“If my father could maintain peace against an invisible foe then we can do the same against a common, visible enemy. Once we find the caches of supplies the Faerghus Dukedom raided, the city will be placated.”

It had been Felix’s intention to bolster his intended’s spirits after a draining battle but his words seemed to have no effect on her mood. After retrieving the bag of the dried fruit and placing it in the space between them, he leaned closer to the parchment that held Byleth’s attention.

_ It is with great sorrow that the death of your daughter, Lila Rosemarie Griffith, has been brought to my attention. Though a simple letter cannot fully erase the pain of losing a child, you have my assurance that their sacrifice has brought us one step closer to peace. On behalf of the Church of Serios, I offer you my personal sympathy and pray that your daughter will find rest in the goddess. _

Near the edge of the table, there was a stack of blank parchment paper. From it, Felix pulled a sheet and jotted down what he couldn’t be said aloud with a spare quill. _ Letters of condolences? You couldn’t delegate this to an officer? _He shoved the paper under Byleth’s nose, demanding her attention. The moment she read his note her displeasure was clear; she gripped the quill in her hand tighter. 

It wasn’t until Byleth placed the letter she had been working on to the side that his questions were answered. _ Letters of condolences for officers. Your own included. Would you like me to delegate this to YOU? _

Felix was nearly certain that if he tried to pen an emotional letter, it would only upset the recipient. As he began to write Byleth leaned forward reading his thoughts as he went. _ If you expected my answer to be yes I’m sorry to disappoint you. _ When he looked up his intended smirked and shook her head at him. _ Still, the dead will be dead tomorrow. Eat with me. Rest. _

For Felix, the last time he had a spare moment to eat was breakfast. While the swordsman hadn’t kept a hawk’s eye on Byleth after the battle, he was nearly certain she hadn’t found the time either. He broke the loaf of bread in half and offered it over, further insisting on his option. Whether intentional or an accident, when Byleth took her portion of the loaf, her fingers brushed against his hand. 

In silence, they ate, occasionally trading side glances alongside slight, warm smiles. It had been a foregone conclusion that what they had been at Rosway couldn't last. On the campaign, their relationship had to be allied commanders before a couple who was courting.

When Byleth slid the parchment back over to him, their conversation continued. _ How are you holding up? Uninjured? _He inquired.

_ Holding as well as I could be. At least physically. Like you would have let me fight if I was hurt. _ Even without a word spoken, Felix heard her teasing tone. _ Not to say that's a bad thing. I would do the same with you. _

Byleth paused and stared at his hand. Her desire was obvious but impossible to comply with. It was already suspicious enough that the two of them were huddled so closely together. Yet not nearly close enough to satisfy either of their needs. With a drawn-out sigh, Felix reluctantly shifted away from the center of the table, widening the distance between them. When the parchment was slid back into his possession, the conversation had grown more serious. 

_ I don’t like our odds if we’re forced to fight more constructs once we breach the castle’s defenses. We won’t need to rely on our calvary within the tight spaces, however. _ She lifted the quill away from the parchment and rolled it between her fingers. _ Fhirdiad needs to be retaken at any cost. I’m just uncertain how well many of us will sleep once it comes time to settle the bill. _

Felix didn’t have a response straight away. He considered reminding Byleth that she was no longer a professor so had no responsibility to concern herself with his fellow Lions. He considered reminding her that the best way to keep everyone taken care of was to first care for herself. Both responses, unfortunately, would likely fall on deaf ears. For all the stories of the Ashen Demon being an emotionless tool of war, the woman under the persona gave a shit concerning the lives around her. Felix nearly wrote that his intended should sleep while she was still able. However, there was no doubt in his mind that she already knew that. He nearly set the quill aside when the way to comfort Byleth came from a quote of her own; 'A tactician's plan is only as valuable as the intelligence they based it on'.

_You're not thinking clearly. Our scouts would have spotted anything in the courtyard. There also isn't enough room in the castle to store objects that large_. Though his words were nowhere near traditionally comforting, Felix hoped they were enough to ease her mind. _House Fraldarius would know if such a room existed. _He added one final thought before he relinquished the parchment. _You'll figure out the best approach. You always do. _

Much to Felix's relief Byleth read his message she steadily exhaled. However, it was not until their meager dinner was complete that the conversation was touched again. Even then it simply read; _Felix,_ _don't stay up and wait for me. I need to pen off more letters. _

Felix didn't need to look up from their conversation to know the opportunity to argue had already been lost. The scratch of a quill was a giveaway that Byleth had sunk back into her work. There was no cordial 'goodnight', let alone the kiss that they had customarily traded. Instead, Felix pushed himself away from the table where Byleth continued to sit and laid in his bedroll situated on the floor. 

When he closed his eyes, sleep refused to take him. His brain began to pose questions at a lightning pace. _ Why didn't I say 'goodnight'? Would those fools really suspect anything from that gesture alone? What if something happens to me? What was the last thing I said to Byleth? Why is this bothering me? I trained my entire life for combat. I...we belong on the battlefield not in court. Why is this bothering me? _ When the questions began to loop, Felix opened his eyes and turned his head toward the flickering candlelight that softly illuminated Byleth and her work. Aside from her brow furrowed in concentration, her expression remained blank. Still, a sense of calm washed over Felix. The final action he witnessed before his eyes became too heavy to keep open was his intended burning a piece of parchment by flame.

* * *

With each long day that passed, the high, grey walls of Fhirdiad Castle stood firm. Impatience spread through the army from the lowliest squires to the core officers. However, it was understood that it was unwise to inflict lasting damage upon the castle's structures. The Empire’s response to the reclamation of the Faerghus capital _ would _ come eventually after all.

Stepping outside of the damaged tavern, which was serving as the army's headquarters, Byleth shielded her eyes from the bright morning sun. She fought the urge to jog towards the sound of troops preparing for the day's assault. Loathe as she was to admit it even privately, the 'Ashen Demon' was apparently susceptible to the infectious impatience in the air. The ambling pace that Byleth forced herself into lasted only a handful of steps before it was interrupted. Just above the noise of peasants going about their day, a purposeful cough sounded directly behind her. She was unsurprised to spy a familiar teal surcoat pull up beside her when she paused. 

"Still stalking me as your prey Fe..." Reluctantly Byleth avoided addressing Felix by his given name. "Fraldarius?" 

Instead of a snarky response, her swordsman's cheeks flushed pink. It was only then that Byleth noticed the unintentional innuendo in calling herself prey to Felix's predator-like action. 

Byleth barely heard the words that her swordsman muttered as she continued her path towards the troops. "The predator to end you will be the Faerghus Dukedom if you’re heading where I think you are. I know you’ve always led from the front but—” Strange enough Felix suddenly cut himself off and scanned the crowd they were approaching. "There is no sense in risking the bishop when there are plenty of pawns in striking distance."

"A chess analogy?" She snickered. "Did you pick that up from Gautier?" Strange enough instead of glaring at her, Felix continued to scan their surroundings. "I had no intention of joining the assault as you assumed by the way. If that's what has you on edge."

Loathe as Byleth was to admit it, her swordsman had every reason to believe she would join the waves of troops in their frontal attack of the castle's defenses. It wasn't like she hadn't considered the option of using the Sword of the Creator to rip apart the portcullis once the decision to overwhelm the defenders with sheer numbers had been reached.

"That's not it." He bit back in a hushed tone. "Go through the next opened door you see and stay behind me. I trust you." Felix added as his gaze finally fell upon her. 

Though she was confused, Byleth placed her trust in Felix and complied with his demand. When she spotted a mostly untouched shop with its door open she turned to move inside ahead of her swordsman. Opening her mouth, the words ‘I trust you too’ became caught in her throat. Felix’s sword-hand, the one she knew to be branded with the Crest of Fraldarius was clenched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: It is the 23rd of the Harpstring Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter


	25. The King's Triumphant Return (Harpstring Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crest of Fraldarius reacts while the struggle to reclaim Fhirdiad continues.

A feminine figure with black hair. A dagger coated with an unknown substance. The Sword of the Creator on the ground, speckled by blood. The vivid images continuously faded in and out of Felix's vision. The Crest of Fraldarius had made one thing crystal clear; an assassin was attempting to weaken the army by targeting the woman he loved. The swordsman's lone consolation was that it appeared that he and Byleth were on the same page. Though she was the de facto commander of the army, she hadn't voiced any complaints or questions after he had practically given her orders without an explanation. 

Resisting the urge to grip the silver sword, Felix trailed behind Byleth over the threshold of what he hoped was an empty structure and immediately closed the door. It was only after there was a barrier, albeit temporary, between themselves and their enemy that he checked if they were alone. After all, any individuals present during the coming confrontation would only complicate matters. Fortunately, it appeared that the ransacked shop they had entered was long abandoned. 

To avoid the assassin spotting them as soon as the door opened, Felix gripped Byleth's wrists and pulled her into a corner. The Crest of Fraldarius produced another image; Byleth grimaced, wide-eyed in pain. With one hand she grasped her throat, while the other reached towards him. _ Or is she reaching towards— _

"If you..." The swordsman chose his next words carefully. "are aware of what is about to happen, say something. Don't take whatever is to come into your own hands." 

"Felix, you-" 

The shop's doorknob rustled. Instinctively Felix’s hand went to the grip of the silver sword. Behind him, he heard bone slide against metal; the Sword of the Creator had been drawn. A ray of light seeped through the door as it cracked open. In the split-second before the swordsman gave into his crest, he wondered how it had felt to die at Ailell. 

As Felix raised the Aegis Shield red tinted his vision. 

The relic barreled forward until it collided with a solid form with black hair. A raucous _ thump _ followed as the momentum from the blow crushed the intruder against the wall. Yet the execution of whatever or whoever was trapped was delayed; something was wrapped around the hand which gripped the still sheathed silver sword. Fire scorched the swordsman's muscles as his crest demanded more from his body.

When the wall finally cratered a garbled voice called out. Minutes later, just as the silver sword began to free itself to finish the job, the swordsman registered who the voice calling to him belonged to. 

"We need answers!" Byleth's voice pierced through the haze of adrenaline which pulled Felix back to his senses; only to be greeted by an overwhelming soreness in his left bicep. 

In the next few seconds, the rest of the world came back into focus. Scraggly black hair framed the would-be assassin's defiant violet eyes. While the Crest of Fraldarius had faded, Felix's raw anger pushed his body through the pain to muster whatever strength still remained.

Releasing his hand from the grip of his blade, the swordsman sought out his enemy's windpipe. With a sneer, he squeezed. “I should kill them.” 

"We. Need. Answers." The damnable woman that he loved insisted again. 

It was not Felix's love for Byleth that prodded his obedience to her words. In fact, if they had merely loved one another, his sword-hand would have finished the job on the spot. However, his respect for her as his equal in all things won out. Instead of crushing the would-be assassin's windpipe with his hand, the swordsman manifested a jolt of thunder knocking them unconscious. 

Eyeing the dagger that had apparently fallen to the ground in the chaos, a seed of doubt was planted in Felix's heart. He decided to refuse Byleth the final word on the matter.

"They die by my hand tonight." Whether or not Byleth realized that his words were a promise was irrelevant. "Regardless of what information we do or do not pry."

* * *

During her time as 'Professor Eisner', Byleth became familiar with several crests. She understood how many of them, including her own, enchanted the strength of the user in various ways. There were individuals such as Hilda Groneril or His Highness that had no control over their crests' activation, and those that possessed a natural control over them such as Felix and herself. At least that was what she had thought.

Protection of those that Felix Fraldarius loved was one of his core tenants. It was for that reason that Byleth had been so hesitant to tell him of the Divine Pulse. She had feared that without the threat of death her swordsman would recklessly throw himself into danger for the sake of her defense. At least that had been her only worry.

Following her encounter with the assassin, Byleth's opinion on both matters had changed. The inhuman strength that left an imprint in the wall certainly had stemmed from the Crest of Fraldarius. Was it also the explanation behind Felix ignoring her numerous calls to him? 

More concerning was Felix's 'boar-like' (to use his own phrase) behavior once he had responded. Byleth couldn't help but be reminded of His Highness's actions against Randolph von Bergliez. It didn't help that she hadn't seen the man since the incident.

Felix hadn't been beside her when His Highness rallied the army. "Advance! Smash that traitor Cornelia and reclaim the capital!" Her former star pupil seemed to teeter between man and madness. "I will not lose…I swear it by the blood in my veins." 

Felix hadn't been beside her when Cornelia was dragged out of Castle Fhirdiad by her feathery gown and red hair. By the time the witch was shoved in front of His Highness, an angry mob filled the streets. A thrown piece of rotten food soon became bottles and rocks as the situation turned murderous. Byleth still wasn't sure which of the two had accidentally struck her. She was certain, however, that order had only been maintained thanks to the threatening _ crack _ from the Sword of the Creator.

Felix hadn't been beside her when the groundwork to reclaim Faerghus was laid. His Highness had sought Byleth out and then guided her up a flight of stairs to what appeared to be a series of offices. The one he prompted her to enter was already filled with officers and strange enough arranged similarly to Garreg Mach's cardinal room. More strange was His Highness's behavior when they had reached the middle table; he offered her the center seat not as 'fellow monster', or 'professor', but as 'archbishop'. 

Felix hadn't been beside her when she finally caught a glimpse of her star pupil again. It was Gilbert who had interrupted the war council with news that there was a large gathering in the courtyard. Admittedly at first Byleth braced herself for another battle. After all, only hours prior, the same courtyard had been filled with enemy troops. Fortunately, the fortress knight corrected her assumption that a counterattack had been gathered. Instead, the assembly was just that; an assembly of men, women, and children waiting for their presumed king. The prince who led Byleth away from the council showed no sign of the madness that had plagued him. His Highness was remorseful, yet that remorse was towards his living subjects not the dead. His Highness was reluctant, yet that reluctance was due to his belief that he was undeserving of praise after abandoning his people. 

Felix hadn't been beside her when their months of hard work finally paid off. For once it had been the professor who followed her former pupil through a labyrinth of staircases, hallways, and false walls until they (along with Gilbert) emerged on a balcony. When the prince stepped up to the railing, the crowd below burst into cheers, lauding _ the man _ as king and savior. A thought which brought a smile to Byleth's lips crossed her mind at that moment. While the wars in Fódlan and in His Highness's mind were sure to rage on, a true victory had finally been won on both fronts.

During the festivities that followed the 'archbishop' had been paraded from place to place and passed from person to person. Already exhausted from a stressful day, Byleth had slipped away just as she had the night of the winter ball. Unlike that night under the Ethereal Moon, there had been no fateful encounter with the prickly swordsman. Under the Harpstring Moon, on the balcony of Castle Fhirdiad, she had only found privacy and an opportunity for her mind to relentlessly analyze the day's events.

A series of taps on the balcony's glass doors tore Byleth away from her inner thoughts. She swallowed hard, dislodging the breath that had gotten trapped in her throat in anticipation; for who else would seek her out other than Felix.

"You may want to come inside." A defeated sigh left Byleth's lips; the voice belonged to His Highness, not her swordsman. As the prince continued his voice grew closer. "It may be spring, but the nights are quite chilly in Fhirdiad. Still, the celebration shows no sign of stopping." Fortunately for the former mercenary, masking her emotions had always come naturally. It was easy for Byleth to fall into a neutral expression before she turned to face her former student who in his black armor nearly blended into the night. His one-eye gazed over her head towards the bonfires that dotted the city. "Here I am blathering on. What brings you back to this wing of the castle? Have you grown weary of the festivities or is something else amiss?”

"I appreciate Your Highness’s concern. Nothing is wrong; it has simply been...a day.” She gave the understatement then silently thanked the goddess that the prince’s condition had been stable during the siege. Unwilling to allow His Highness to press her further, she turned his question back onto him. “What brings you here?”

“Professor, the royal apartments.” Briefly, he turned his head towards the glass doors. “This wing was my home...my family’s home when they lived. I have just returned from their graves...I wished to see if anything was left here.” At Garreg Mach there had been numerous silences shared between professor and pupil. Perhaps it was because it had been years since she shared a comfortable silence with him but something disquieting hung in the air. “I should retire for the night...I apologize for disturbing you.”

As His Highness began to walk away, the day’s events flashed by again in rapid succession. While previously she had been focused on where her swordsman hadn’t been she now noticed where His Highness had been. The prince had rallied the troops between every attempt to break the castle’s defense. When the angry mob had boiled over, the prince had bellowed out orders to disperse and had promised to bring the traitor to justice. During the war council, the prince had negotiated with representatives from House Gautier and House Charon to ensure that House Fraldarious would no longer single-handedly carry the burden of the war. Upon the balcony in front of his people, the prince had looked nothing like the young man she had taught and everything like the king he was meant to be. During their final days at Garreg Mach Byleth had pled with the then mad prince to fight his illness. For a time after Grondor Field, she had even considered him a lost cause. That was certainly no longer the case as evidenced by his behavior in Rosway and here in Fhirdiad. His Highness **was** fighting. 

“You can’t disturb me.” Byleth placed her hand on the prince’s pauldron and repeated the promise she had made to him in the goddess tower. “Through anything. Until the bitter end. I'm here to stand by you and guide you the best I can. Never forget that and never stop fighting. I’m proud of the man I saw today. I’m proud of you, Dimitri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anything good ever happen in Fhirdiad?
> 
> Note to self: It is the 23rd of the Harpstring Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter


	26. The Ambiguous Morality of War (Harpstring Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trend in Fhirdiad continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is on the longer side due to the number of plot points that need set up before we continue on the campaign.
> 
> I still love using u/sushifan123's piece as a [Felix](https://www.reddit.com/r/fireemblem/comments/d7gowf/post_timeskip_felix_reference/) post timeskip reference.

_ He did threaten to dispose of me if I proved a threat to Edelgard when he was a student. _ It was the umpteenth time today that Felix remembered those words, yet a fresh bucket of ice water still pooled into his gut. Earlier, it had been with satisfaction that he watched the life drain from the slit in the assassin’s neck and fade from their eyes. Unfortunately, an entire day of effort had only confirmed what anyone could have guessed; Hubert von Vestra was following through with his threat.

_ Byleth is safe. _ With the Faerghus Dukedom driven from the whole of Fhirdiad, the army was garrisoned throughout the city while the senior officers quartered within the castle. Between the snake’s ilk and their target, there were now solid walls, locked doors, and armed soldiers posted at what seemed to be every doorway. After passing two such guards, Felix approached an all too familiar silver-plated, double door. _ And when incompetence rears its head, the ilk will still have to contend with the edge of my blade. _

Though his reflection was distorted by the ornately etched door, it nevertheless caused the swordsman to pause. While his surcoat, doublet, and gloves had been removed prior to...any exertion, dark spots splattered his normally teal riding pants and dark blue boots. A few spots of reddish-brown even speckled his face and indigo hair. Gingerly, the swordsman wrapped his gloved hands around the handles and pressed ahead. _ I may be a Fraldarius but I am more than my bloodline...more than some passive shield. If I stop Hubert I stop these assassins _

Before the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was divided by war, the state apartments of Fhirdiad housed court officials who served the reigning monarch on a permanent basis. For generations, the heads of House Fraldarius had practically made their primary home here as they shielded their respective monarchs physically, and politically. In Felix’s personal experience, both from visiting his old man and from his time as a page, the wing was practically devoid of sound for all but a few minutes of the day. Even then said sounds were merely curt greetings, and footsteps as the residents left their chambers. 

That memory was a stark contrast to the scene of the state apartments before him. A series of voices overlapped one another as Felix pushed through the crowded hallway. Some swapped stories of the battle, more sporadically sang between gulps of alcohol (presumably), while others assigned menial tasks to any unfortunate adjutant that passed by. A few steps later and the swordsman collided with a mop of silver hair that abruptly stepped into his path from a doorway. A stack of parchment flew into the air as the figure landed on the floor.

“Wonderful.” Felix sarcastically grumbled as he went to step over the blind individual. “We have both the deaf and the blind gathered in the hallway now. Watch where you’re walking.”

“Felix?” By the voice on the ground, Ashe was apparently a blind sniper. Nevertheless, when he turned, his apparently non-functioning green eyes widened. “What happened to you?”

"You missed an entire person but you noticed a smidge of blood. Of course." The swordsman quickly deflected his question. There was one person...only one person who he was willing to answer concerning his actions. Ashe was not that person. "Where is the professor? I need to speak to her."

The sniper continued to stare at the blood as he slowly replied. “I've just come from her room.” _ Excuse me? _“Um, are you sure you don't need to see a healer first?” 

A pang of jealousy formed a growl in Felix's throat. “Absolutely. Certain.” 

“I guess the professor always knows best. I was just asking about...well she insisted we delay search parties for you until dawn." Satisfied with Ashe’s explanation behind his presence in their former professor's private chamber, Felix turned to enter it himself. "Wait! Unless it's urgent I don't think she wants to be bothered; His Highness was still with—”

_Then I will continue to use you and your friends until the flesh falls from your bones. _Whereas Hubert's threat chilled Felix, the Boar's threat enraged him. Tightly he gripped the silver sword and prepared for the worst.

As the swordsman shoved the door open, Byleth’s voice mid-conversation spilled out into the hallway. “Believe I’m a moral compass?” To his relief, she sounded exasperated but unpanicked. “I was a mercenary; most of my life has been spent outside of Fódlan. You can't expect me to make this kind of—” 

Because the state apartments were provided by the crown, each chamber was initially identically furnished. In this case, the room was down to its barest form; a wardrobe, a shelf attached to the wall, a four-poster bed in the center of the room which Byleth sat upon the edge of without her armor, and a fireplace to the bed's left where the armored Boar stood. 

As the door hit the wall both heads turned towards Felix. 

“So you still live.” It was the Boar who spoke, yet Byleth who held his intention. She seemed less than pleased; shifting in the bed and crossing her arms. “If you need something from our professor, ah I mean the archbishop you should return later. We are discussing a delicate matter.”

“Temporary archbishop.” Felix reminded the beast before closing the door behind him. “And I have a right to hear any delicate matter regarding the war or the realm. Don’t forget this war has been waged on the back of House Fraldarius.”

Felix truthfully wasn’t sure if he wanted or needed to be involved in whatever discussion had been interrupted. However, he would be damned before the Boar would be allowed alone within his intended’s chambers. 

For surely the beast was only playing at human again. 

“But of course. You have my apologies. Now, where were we?” 

Keeping that in mind, the swordsman took a moment to more carefully assess the room. He noted that the Sword of the Creator rest upon the mantle above the fireplace while Areadbhar was propped against the wardrobe. Lacking proficiency with a sword, the Boar would probably lunge for his own relic instead of Byleth’s. In a worst-case scenario, those precious few seconds would be needed to strike the beast down. 

“Ah, yes I can obviously concede that you are unstudied but you are Rhea’s...temporary successor. If you cannot pass judgment who can?”

During her long reign as Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, Rhea had been known to pass instantaneous judgment without a second thought. Though the details of the memory were foggy, Felix could remember her verdict against the Western Church and the purge against it that followed when he was a young student at the academy. Is was plain as day that the Boar wanted Byleth to use that same authority. 

“Your own Highness?” A drawn-out sigh left Byleth’s lips. “As you said ‘Cornelia stands accused of treason against the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus’. She wronged your kingdom... your people... your family.”

To his horror, Felix found himself not violently disagreeing with the Boar. “Which would be a reason for the damn Boar to be recused.” Byleth’s emerald eyes filled with hurt, his heart sank. “And that’s if the beast was playing at ‘king’ and had any authority in the first place.” 

What had been said were only facts. Ones that the Boar would have likely brought up himself in a matter of moments. Still, Felix felt like he had betrayed the woman he loved. His instinct demanded that he force the beast to leave in order to comfort Byleth. However, there was no doubt in the swordsman’s mind; that action would draw too much suspicion. To not give in to his instinct, Felix diverted his eyes away from his intended. 

“It is as Felix stated.” When the Boar began to predictably agree with him, Felix’s stomach flipped. Seeking out a distraction, amber eyes swept over the room. “Even if I were unbiased, my hands are tied until my coronation as the King of Faerghus. That process could take weeks and again I would require the support of the Church of Seiros. Your support." No matter where they landed he felt Byleth’s gaze boring into his skull. “We’re at war, time itself is a scarce commodity. You don’t have to like it but either way, we need you to embrace the position you’ve found yourself in.”

The only noise came from the hallway of the state apartment.

“I need time...**alone**.” There was an edge to her voice. A dismissal. A warning. "Derdriu. You'll know before I leave."

"Very well. Goodnight Your Grace.” The beast moved towards Areadbhar so the swordsman moved further into the room. As the Boar passed by, the beast acknowledged his presence with a nod. “Felix.” 

Felix grunted and kept his eyes on the beast until the door shut behind him. A soft _thud _behind the swordsman nearly echoed the louder _thud _of the door. Turning, he found the sound’s source; Byleth had collapsed backward onto the mattress. 

To give his intended time to cool off from the conflict, Felix sought out a way to busy himself. The decision was made when he spotted a washbasin upon a shelf. Decilately the swordsman removed his gloves. It was on that skin, his cut and bruised knuckles, where the assassin’s blood had met his own with each forceful punch. A series of unclasped buckles found the swordsman’s gloves, cloak, and armor deposited into the corner of the room. One skin of water, a rag, and a familiarly scented bar of soap later, and the process of removing the blood began after he rolled up his sleeves.

“Our enemy is dead.” Felix finally offered as he lathered the rag to wash off his face.“It was pointless to keep that assassin alive. From the beginning, we both knew who sent them.” No words came from the bed behind him. After a time the water in the basin turned a light shade of pink when he wrung out the rag. “They say the best way to kill a snake is to sever its head. It’s a shame we’re likely to meet Hubert on the battlefield. We’re unlikely to take his head ourselves.” The morbid half-joke seemed to fall on deaf ears; Byleth remained silent. “More assassins are sure to follow until that point.”

“Did you enjoy it?” His intended asked in an accusatory tone. 

Felix glanced over his shoulder to the bed. Byleth hadn’t moved an inch. She still lay across the mattress with her eyes fixated on the ceiling above. There were no clues to what she had meant by ‘it’. 

“Did I enjoy what?” 

“I’m not blind, Felix. Your clothes weren’t bloody when I last saw you. Did you enjoy torturing that assassin?”

“**You **told **me **that we needed answers. I extracted those answers at **your** request. Out of anyone, I would have thought you’d understand that no amount of information comes cheaply. Were you expecting me to ask them nicely or bribe them with wealth and power?”

Byleth sat up to face him. “I wasn’t questioning the need for someone to use torture. I am asking if you Felix Hugo Fraldarius enjoyed the act.” 

“Did I enjoy it?” He asked incredulously yet there was something unsettling about the question when the swordsman considered it. _ Did I enjoy it? _

Turning his head away from Byleth, Felix dunked his hands into the washbasin. 

From the moment that the Crest of Fraldarius had manifested its warning, a mixture of worry and anger had run through the swordsman. Admittedly once he had secured the would-be assassin those feelings had steadily subsided with each impact of his fist. _ But does that mean I enjoyed it?_

“I don’t know.” Felix stared into the water in the basin which began to deepen in color as he scrubbed away. “It felt cathartic. I think hurting someone who wanted to take you away from me felt cathartic. I love you after all. I would...I will cut through thousands of our enemies if I must.”

“And how is that different from where His Highness was a moon ago?”

“Hmph, you know better. The Boar and I never have been and never will be anything alike.” Behind him, Byleth scoffed. “We’re not. For as long as I can remember the Boar has been one step off his path of vengeance. Vengeance out of guilt for those who only exist to him. At the end of the day, the beast is merely doing whatever he wants while using ‘the dead’ as an excuse.”

“And yourself? How many steps off your own path of vengeance are you?”

A feminine figure with black hair. A dagger coated with an unknown substance. The Sword of the Creator on the ground, speckled by blood. The woman he loved grimacing, wide-eyed in pain. With one hand she grasped her throat, while the other reached towards him. Those images had not come to fruition. All the same, just the thought of losing Byleth had caused him to act like he never had before. He didn’t care to contemplate what could have happened if the assassin’s blade had actually found its mark. _ So that’s her comparison. _

Lifting his hands from the basin, Felix examined the cut although bloodless skin. “If something happened to you? Not as many as I’m comfortable with. Then again, I can’t imagine you demanding vengeance...alive or dead. The difference between myself and the Boar is our motivation; everything I did was to protect us." Fearful of seeing an emotionally stony wall erected against him, he didn’t dare look towards Byleth for a reaction. "I doubt if I could have gone that far without the fear of losing you.” 

"Felix, promise me you won't lose yourself against Hubert." 

"I won't. I'm aware that would mean losing you." The weight of the day’s events, especially their recent conversation steadily made itself known. “I know I can’t stay but I’d...like to come to bed for a bit. If you’ll allow me.” 

Just as Felix went to drop his arms to dry off his hands, his intended gave her response. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her front against his back in a hug. Her forehead came to rest upon his shoulder blade. 

"Not in those bloody clothes you're not." She deadpanned into his surcoat.

Felix was all too happy to oblige. While the woman he loved loosened her embrace to stoke the fire, layer by layer save his smallclothes and swordbelt joined the rest of his clothing in the corner. After Felix ensured that the door was locked he dutifully placed his blades under his side of the bed. Only then did he allow himself to settle under the covers next to a similarly undressed Byleth.

Limbs that hadn't touched in weeks began to find their familiar spots. Byleth's front settled against Felix's side. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck. Legs entangled under the sheets. His hand secured them together on the small of her back. Lazily his fingers rubbed patterns deep into her skin.

"If there's anything I can do to help you." He thought aloud. "You can rely on me for more than my blade."

"This is—” Byleth yawned, forcing Felix to hold in a fond chuckle. "This is exactly what I need right now.”

A kiss was pressed against his throat. Felix returned it with one of his own against her forehead. 

Gradually the ongoing ruckus in the hallway faded away.

* * *

A pounding sound ripped Felix from his slumber. In the pitch black, he jerked upright. _ Where am I? _

"Professor!" The muffled voice was enough to erase any residual grogginess. It belonged to Sylvain. "Professor, it's urgent! Open up!" 

"Shit." As soon as Felix mumbled the words a familiar weight upon the mattress disappeared, yanking the covers away in the process. 

Aware of the ramifications if they were caught, Felix stumbled from the soft bed towards the corner where his clothes lay. In a matter of moments, light streamed into the room. From her mint bedhead down to her bare toes, Byleth was a beautiful, disheveled mess. Her grey riding pants and black blouse made her decent but only just enough. The pants were loosely tied while her fist clutched the fabric of the blouse keeping her breasts covered. 

With an internal groan, Felix pried his eyes away from his intended and refocused his attention on redressing himself. 

"Professor?" Uncharacteristically Sylvain did not follow through with a flirt. "Uh, an express messenger just arrived from Derdriu. They bear Claude's seal." 

"Is His Highness awake?" Felix pulled his head through his turtleneck just in time to watch Byleth stuff her feet into her riding boots. "I'll deal with him. Gather everyone into that office we used earlier."

Felix expected the lantern light to fade once Byleth closed the door behind her as she left. Only one of those three events, Byleth stepping away, occurred. 

From the doorway, Sylvain eventually cleared his throat. "You want me to start rousing everyone while you're in the professor's chambers, Felix?" The swordsman froze in place. "Come on, you wouldn't be far from your blades. I can see them poking out from under the bed."

After tugging on his doublet Felix gathered the remaining articles of clothing into his arms. Into the light, he plod, red-faced and scowling. He came face to face with the armored paladin. _ He must have been overseeing the night watch._

It wasn’t long before his ‘friend’ opened his mouth. “So you and the professor finally—”

“Can you not keep your mouth shut for five minutes, Sylvain?” Felix admonished the man as he retrieved his sword belt and hoisted it over his shoulder. “You get one warning; don’t tell a soul or—”

“Yeah...yeah. You’ll make me as miserable as you appear on a daily basis.” As usual, his friend was brushing him off. “Are you two at least staying safe?”

“Sylvain!” The paladin defensively raised his hands in the air. “If you think I would come to you of all people concerning...that. You’re as much out of your mind as the Boar.” Barefooted, the swordsman pushed past the paladin to begin his walk of shame towards his room. Wherever that was. “If you can stand being useful for a moment. Do you know where my saddlebags are?”

With a chortle, Sylvain draped his arm over Felix’s shoulder. “That depends.” His ‘friend’ wickedly smiled. “Are you willing to trade the information I want for the information you need.”

* * *

Standing with her back turned towards the nobles in the office, Byleth carefully considered the large map nailed to the wall in front of her. Behind her, the aforementioned nobles debated the missive that had roused them from their slumber.

"They attacked us at Grondor Field. This is nothing more than a trap." Agreeing grunts followed.

"Shouldn't House Aegir or House Gloucester have delayed enemy troop movement? Surely if this was legitimate we would have at least been alerted prior to now." This voice she recognized, it belonged to the representative that House Gautier had sent.

The office door creaked open as a third voice made their opinion known. "The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus is under no obligation to aid the Leicester Alliance."

A chair scraped on the wooden floor immediately to Byleth's left where Dimitri had been seated. She imagined he was now standing. "This war council was called to debate how, not if we aid Derdriu. I can accept that many of you are distrustful of the Duke von Riegan but to not place an ounce of faith in the advice of Archbishop Eisner is appalling." The 'archbishop' closed her eyes to resist rolling them. It was as tactician, not archbishop that Byleth had made the case that the Kingdom needed the Alliance to maintain the war's balance. "If I'm not mistaken, Archbishop Eisner intends to march the Knights of Seiros south. There is no doubt that Her Grace will be more than enough to tip the scales of the siege tactically. All that remains are the necessary numbers."

"Your Highness." The thorn in her side from Gautier again spoke. "What of reuniting the Kingdom? Is it wise to split our forces into two fronts?"

"Tch." The scoff was one that Byleth knew as well as her late father's voice. She felt the edge of her lips threaten to curl upwards. Though Felix hadn’t been present when the council began, he was now with her. "If by forces you mean the ones levied by House Fraldarius, you needn't worry. I have no intention of splitting them off from the march south. The Margrave of Gautier will have to raise his own troops if he wants to see any split.” 

Byleth crossed her arms and slipped on the stony mask of the Ashen Demon before she turned to face the room. The swordsman...her swordsman stood in the doorway obscured by a crowd of standing officers. Her eyes remained in his direction even as others spoke.

The prince beside her sighed. "Tone aside, I give my approval to House Fraldarius's proposal. The leadership of the western front falls to House Gautier." Her swordsman raised his eyebrow. "The next natural step, once the siege on Derdriu is broken, would be to reapply pressure on the Adrestian Empire. I will join Archbishop Eisner and House Fraldarius south. A presence other than Felix will make negotiations with Duke von Riegan...possible. That should also open the road to Enbarr...I wish to see it fall by my own hand."

Her swordsman's amber eyes bulged wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real note from the draft:  
-"Morally Ambiguous Felix" tortures assassin and kills them (evidence is blood on boots and busted up knuckles). But no one else was in the room where it happened...the room where it happened...the room where it happened.
> 
> Note to self: It is the 24th of the Harpstring Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter


	27. Double-Timing to Derdriu's Deer (Garland Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Byleth encounter a bump while on the road to rescue Claude.

Eleven days. It had been eleven days since the war council had turned what was supposed to be a diplomatic trip to Derdriu into a rescue operation. The Boar’s facade had somehow held up just long enough for the delegation from the Margraviate of Gautier to ink their pledge to levy troops. Not a half-hour later cracks began to show; an inconsequential headache became murmurings on ‘that woman’s head’. It was fortunate that an inkwell was shattered against the stone wall after the room had already been cleared. Felix had nearly drawn his sword until the beast collapsed onto all fours, hyperventilating. 

Before the sun had risen on the following day, Felix forced himself to lift the covers on Byleth’s bed, leaving her room for his own. That had been the last time they shared four solid walls together, let alone a bed. Over breakfast, Cornelia’s fate had been sealed with four strokes of ‘Archbishop Eisner’s’ quill. Away from prying eyes that same quill was broken in half by that same woman in frustration. It had been an unfair position which both himself and the Boar had put their former professor into but unfortunately, it had been necessary. Of the three, the beast had been the only one to witness the traitor’s execution that afternoon. 

Nine days ago the combined troops from the Dukedom of Fraldarius and the Church of Seiros began their southward march. Much like the campaign’s original eastbound march to Ailell, several familiar faces had been left behind. With House Gautier in command of the reunification campaign, Sylvain was obligated to divert his cavalry to assist his father. With a smirk and a wink, the redhead wished Felix ‘good luck’. There wasn’t a single way in the goddess’s green earth that his friend had meant good luck regarding the southern campaign. Gustave and Ashe were the other two left behind. Gustave to act as a liaison between the Church of Seiros and Margrave Gautier, while Ashe was expected to pick up the pieces of House Gaspard if they refused to bend the knee. 

Following the initial departure away from Fhirdiad, the Ashen Demon set a demanding pace. Even when the host had approached the Valley of Torment under a Garland Moon, she was relentless despite the increased temperature from the summer’s first moon. Even now with Derdriu days away there had been no mention of slowing down let alone allowing the troops a day of rest before battle. 

Outside of the House Fraldarius command tent, Felix sat alone, forcing the contents of the plate in his hands down his throat. Though the reclamation of Fhirdiad had replenished the war’s coffers, it had done nothing to bolster the supplies currently available. Meals still consisted of some sort of grain and an ever-dwindling supply of heavily salted meat. Actually, the swordsman wondered whether whatever was sliding down his throat had ever been meat in the first place.

When a long shadow stopped to hover over him, Felix glanced up from his ‘food’. While the attire of a bishop wasn’t a dead giveaway, the motherly tone of concern was unique to Mercedes. 

“Felix, is everything alright?” 

The question alarmed Felix. There was no sense in denying that taking his meal outside of the command tent was abnormal. While eating alone with Byleth hadn't been an option, there was nevertheless something comforting in the routine of eating alongside her. 

Tonight’s change in location was due to a batch of letters that had arrived, disgustingly addressed to ‘the Most Reverend Archbishop Eisner’. The voluntold adjutant who read the letters hadn’t finished the second before Felix felt ill. _ Is Sylvain not the only one who knows? No, I must look sick. That has to be it. _

“Warm but otherwise fine.” Felix offered to ease what he hoped was the mother hen’s worry. “It's nothing."

“Oh dear, if anything changes please come to the medical tent immediately.” He nodded his head, hoping Mercedes would move along. “Otherwise take the proper precautions; don’t overexert yourself, consider wearing lighter clothing, and hydrate! Hydrate! Hydrate!” In a cloying chipper tone, she had nearly sung the word. 

Narrowing his eyes, Felix took a series of gulps from his nearby waterskin. “Satisfied?”

“I suppose so...for now.” Despite her blase reply, she nodded enthusiastically. “Be sure to care for yourself, Felix. It would be a shame for you to end up on one of the medical cots like so many others. Goodness, I can be so scatterbrained! I’d almost forgotten why I came here in the first place.” Mercedes bunched her petticoat together before sitting beside him. "Is everything alright with the professor and the other officers?"

“Oh absolutely. We all thoroughly enjoyed that wonderful stroll through a volcanic wasteland and now through possible enemy territory!" The next breath Felix took was exhaled through his teeth. "Mercedes, I could fill a trench with the number of things that aren’t alright at the moment. Be more specific.”

“Fair, fair. Now, how do I phrase this?” She hummed then whispered. “Several medics, myself included, are concerned. Our soldiers are being pushed to their limit, several have collapsed. The professor's imposed pace hasn't led to any casualties, but this needs to stop before that's not the case."

While Mercedes hadn't asked for any input, Felix knew something had to be said. As a commander, the army's health was a priority...albeit one below winning the war itself. For a moment he eyed the flap of the command tent and thought back on the pile of letters within. Each new responsibility, each letter asking 'Archbishop Eisner' for a piece of advice which she was unqualified to give seemed to be another log on a bonfire of pressure. 

"Bring it up after the tent empties." He could only imagine what a challenge to Byleth’s tactics, something their former professor prided herself on knowing, would lead to. “Better yet, go attend to your duties. Your skills are too valuable to be tied up. I’ll approach the professor myself.” 

“Reliable as always. Thank you, Felix.” Mercedes placed her hand below his leather pauldron then squeezed his bicep. “Oh, I'll brew us tea tomorrow in thanks!”

Realistically, declining the request would just lead to Mercedes gently insisting upon it until he caved in. It was faster and far less of a headache for Felix to agree to her request upfront than to fight the mother hen’s need to care for those around her so she would leave in a reasonable amount of time.

As lanterns were lit throughout the campsite, officers began to filter out little by little until Byleth’s shadow was the only one remaining. Although the swordsman attempted to silently slip past the pavilion's entrance, the always alert former mercenary lifted her head from the documents in front of her before his second leg crossed the threshold. 

“I thought you had settled in for the night.” A slight smile crept onto Byleth’s lips but did nothing to mask her weary eyes. “Two more letters need replies before you try to shoo me off to sleep."

Felix rolled his eyes and took his seat at the head of the table. While his old man had been in command, Byleth’s seat had been two chairs away on the left of the head chair. She now sat directly to its right. 

"Two more letters and one concern." The correction earned him Byleth’s arched brow in response. "We need to consider when not if to rest before Derdriu." 

Mentioning their troops dissolved her expression.

Blunt. Logical. Emotionless. Those were the definitive qualities of the mask that Byleth Eisner donned when she stepped into command. However, Felix had known the woman beneath the Ashen Demon long enough...intimately enough to pick out subtle emotions. Between her thumb and forefinger, a quill was rolled as she processed the information.

"Several soldiers are collapsing, according to Mercedes. She interrupted my dinner on behalf of the medics. Her recommendation makes sense, in my mind at least."

"Did Mercedes mention how many soldiers are several?" Felix had no answer to that question nor the ones which followed. "How long has this been an occurrence? Are they certain this isn't an aftereffect from the Valley of Torment?" Her voice remained steady but the quill stopped twirling. "Why is my fellow commander making this report instead of Mercedes or another medic?"

"Byleth," Felix felt as if he had broken an unspoken rule by using her name while they were actively in their positions of command. "I know firsthand how much pressure you're under. Some of it I helped place on you myself. And that's to say nothing of how important this battle may be or how much von Riegan personally means to you."

As emerald eyes shut tightly, the quill was dropped into a nearby inkwell. Felix understood that the woman beside him was gathering her thoughts before responding. What he didn't know is who would be responding; Byleth or the Ashen Demon.

"My responsibility is to have your back." He reminded her. "I won't idly watch you crack when I have the power to protect you. Even if only by filtering who delivers you bad news."

"Is that what you did?" When the woman beside him firmly planted both of her palms against the table, Felix prepared himself for the worst. Yet a sigh followed. "Protect me...on the battlefield. Support me away from it."

Felix grit his teeth in frustration. "Tch. What are you talking about, those are the same damn things."

"They're not." Emerald eyes flung open and seared his own. "I want your blunt advice, and your perspective in this tent...not your shield."

"Oh, is that so? Fine, have it your way." Instantly Felix regretted his scathing tone, the one he had promised to work on. What he did not regret was the opinion which led to his outburst. If Byleth was concerned she'd lose him to rage, Felix was concerned he'd lose her to stress. "If you insist on facing every issue personally, we need to separate ourselves from the war.”

“There’s no such thing. A mercenary is still a mercenary away from their contract. A professor is still a professor away from their lesson.” Emerald eyes again closed. There was a weight, a sense of resignation in her next words. “War doesn’t just stop because our enemies are distant. It permeates everything.”

Felix shook his head. “You're **allowing** the war to permeate everything. There has never been a need to drag it into your tent." He pushed through his lingering irritation and mustered as much fondness as he was able. "Byleth, if you won’t set a boundary for your own sake, do it for us. We’ll lose so much if we treat one another as commanders in what’s left of our privacy.”

The woman beside him leaned forward and cradled her head within her hands. Underneath the table, Felix reached his leg out, seeking out Byleth’s foot with his own. When he felt the former mercenary’s sabaton Felix pressed down upon it slowly but firmly. The gesture was by no means traditionally comforting, but there was nothing traditional about their situation. 

“I don't know how to do what you're asking, Felix. My work has defined who I am all my life." Byleth's hands traveled into her hair. "How would I even enforce a boundary? My responsibilities won't just disappear, I'll still be sought out."

"I'll tell them all to fuck off." 

The unladylike snort of a laugh that Byleth gave off was unbecoming of a future duchess and undoubtedly would have earned a glare from his mother had she been present. A smile tugged at the corners of Felix's lips just at the sight of softened emerald eyes gazing at him with amusement. While the laugh he loved because it was genuine this look he loved because it was for him.

To keep the mood from darkening again, Felix reassured her. "Change never happens overnight. For now, stop bringing your work to bed. A promise doesn't seem like too much to ask for." He suggested. 

Byleth’s mouth fell open and formed silent words. "I can...promise to try. I doubt I have full control over keeping my word though." She shook her head. "Are you really planning on telling everyone to fuck off?"

"Loudly and enthusiastically." 

The smile that had been tugging at Felix’s lips escaped when the woman that he loved again laughed. Above the widest smile he had seen in weeks, her eyes shone like the precious stones they were in the lantern light. There was now an impossible choice to make. Extinguishing the light within the tent meant he could freely embrace Byleth. Conversely, extinguishing the light also meant he could no longer enjoy the happy expression on his intended’s face. 

An intruding thought made Felix’s decision for him. “Shit...Mercedes. We've been sidetracked." As expected Byleth’s expression sunk into solemnity. "You finish whatever letters are left, I'll fetch her." 

Felix shot out of his chair and hustled toward the tent's flap. To his surprise, the tent grew dim. 

"We'll fetch His Highness and see what Mercedes has to say together." Without turning, Felix narrowed his eyes and scoffed. "Don't give me that look, Felix. The man has a right to give his opinion." 

"That'd be fine if he _ were _ a man and not a beast." He grumbled under his breath.

In the darkness that enveloped the tent, Felix felt his intended wrap her arms around his waist. 

Byleth pressed herself against his back. "The less you bicker, the faster we'll reach a decision." Then pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. "The faster we reach a decision, the sooner you can escort me to bed."

Chuckling to himself, Felix reached down and brought his intended's fingers to his lips. Victories against the incredible, damnable woman were fleeting at best but at least even s defeat often held a prize of its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: It is the 5th of the Garland Moon 1186 at the end of this chapter
> 
> For those curious, this is the origin of the promise referred to in 'The Lies of Ever After'. 
> 
> "So am I allowed to sign this here or do I need to get out of this warm bed? I wouldn't want to break one of my promises to you.”
> 
> I'm going to do my best to remain motivated to finish this series.


	28. The Stag's Final Scheme (Garland Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forces from the Kingdom of Faerghus, the Leicester Alliance, and the Adrestian Empire again clash. This time in the Alliance capital of Derdriu.

Volkhard von Arundel. Uncle to both Edelgard von Hresvelg and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. Regent of the Adrestian Empire. Opportunistic minor lord who to Byleth's consternation held Derdriu, and within it Claude, under siege. 

At least until the asshole and his troops could be trapped within the tactician’s planned pincer.

Mounted upon their respective horses Byleth and her fellow commanders awaited one final scouting report before launching their assault. Behind them a sea of royal blue, teal, and white banners flapped in the salty breeze, awaiting orders.

From a previous scouting excursion, it was already known that the citizens of Derdriu had been evacuated to the sea. The awaited report answered the curious question of why. Imperial and Alliance forces were now clashing deep within the city. The enemy had not broken through Derdriu's defenses, however. Evidently, they had been allowed...drawn in.

His Highness was the first to comment on the information. "He put his soldiers into position purely on the belief that we'd come...I can't believe Claude would risk everything on that belief."

Disturbing enough, Byleth could. After all, the very same night that Fhirdiad had been liberated, a messenger arrived from Derdriu with news of the siege. 

"Archbishop," To her left, His Highness addressed her. "Have the circumstances changed our plan or are we prepared to move out?"

Odd enough the prince's question gave Byleth a sense of relief. In the brief time that she had known Dimitri before the war the boy's concern for the lives of those around him led him to be cautious, occasionally to his detriment. As a professor, whenever her star pupil asked a question similar to this she would without fail retort; 'What do you think?' Today his question was further evidence that the prince was returning to who Byleth remembered him to be. 

Turning her head towards the prince, the former professor caught herself slipping into a lecture. "It's still a pincer whether your enemy is against the walls or within them. Assuming the empire hasn't seized control of the city, the major change is our need to secure the harbor. A mixture of mounted troops is best suited for the task."

She gazed just past the prince. Felix's eyes were narrowed into his signature glare as if he was already aware of her plan. Byleth couldn't begrudge him. Between the injuries she had sustained at Grondor Field and the assassination attempt against her in Fhirdiad, the man had a reason to want to remain near her side.

Refocusing her gaze, Byleth finished her line of thought. "Pegasus to shock and seize. Calvary to reinforce and secure." With the confidence that those present could fill in the obvious, she dismounted, leaving the rest unsaid. "Whoever bumps into Duke von Riegan first is responsible for keeping his scheming to a minimum. See you all on the other side."

As Byleth walked away she felt Felix's glare set upon her, but he didn't argue against their separation. Perhaps because there was no argument to be made. 

Aside from a battalion hailing from the County of Galatea, the only other troops flight-capable belonged to the Knights of Seiros. The story was similar for the available cavalry; the Kingdom had levied several battalions, but the Holy Knights of Seiros held more experience. 

In terms of command, it was sensible for the 'archbishop' to take control of her specialized troops for an important objective. Besides, while Galatea was an exceptional aerial commander the nature of her combat role required continual movement. The pegasus knight was poorly suited to coordinate with their Alliance counterparts. 

Upon reaching the company of fliers, 'Archbishop Eisner' issued the necessary orders. Once mounted behind Galatea the former mercenary closed her eyes and prepared herself for battle.

* * *

"Professor!" Galatea's shout accompanied the sound of rushing air and a distant clash of metal. Emerald eyes snapped open. "Below! You need to see this!"

Shifting her eyes downward, the Ashen Demon surveyed the battlefield far out of reach. Without a rhythm, clumps of red and yellow chaotically mixed in the street. Her eyes followed the Imperial tide east until it clashed then ebbed against a chokepoint to the docks, much like the ocean they fought above. Within the formation holding the chokepoint, a blip of red light caught the former mercenary’s attention. _ A relic _. 

What crashed against the defenders next was not a wave of red but a spell; a ball of orange fire. Immediate action was necessary.

"You're clear of archers. Javelins to the approaching wave. Dive as close to the surface as you're able." The Ashen Demon rattled off instructions. "Target the mages on the next strafe."

After Galatea's affirmation, the former mercenary leaned forward and clamped her eyes shut. Alongside the pegasus, her stomach plunged. Screams followed mere seconds later. 

Leveling out, an internal countdown began. _ Five. _ The Ashen Demon opened her eyes and inhaled. _ Four. _ She perched upon the saddle, digging her sabatons into the mount's white down. _ Three. _ The Sword of the Creator was gripped and unsheathed. _ Two. _ Then was released onto the ground. _ One. _She dove forward, landing shoulder first onto the wooden dock.

Tucking inward, her own momentum closed the gap as the former mercenary rolled towards her relic. Incoherent shouting came from every direction. Whether from friend or foe remained unknown; she could scarcely tell which way was up versus down. 

The spinning ceased inches short of the Sword of the Creator. Springing to her knees, the Ashen Demon lunged forward to arm herself properly. Her hand landed on the relic's grip. A leather boot landed on her hand. 

No matter the armor, a dagger could easily puncture an artery or rip a tendon through a vulnerable point. On her stomach, the former mercenary withdrew the dagger on her lower back. The strike fell short, however; a blow whipped her head to the side.

Dagger in hand, the Ashen Demon peered through the black spots in her vision. A bolt of red streaked overhead, the Imperial who'd kicked her stumbled. She took the opportunity to finish the enemy, rising to her feet before twisting the dagger into their side. 

The blade was withdrawn only after the Sword of the Creator glowed red in her grasp.

"Teach!" As there was no reason to verify who the voice belonged to, the former mercenary pressed ahead. "Great timing! We need to work on your entrance though." 

Ignoring his snark, she updated Duke von Riegan on the current situation. "Calvary is on the way! Reform the defense and we'll hold until they arrive." 

As the spots in her vision receded, another streak of red buzzed by her ear, lodging into the visor of a distant knight. 

"Right behind you, my friend." He replied then raised his voice. "What did I tell you all? Our reinforcements are here. And just in time. Let's make sure they have something to reinforce!" 

The Master Tactician carried on; rallying and reorganizing his troops. The Ashen Demon was soon flanked by Alliance fortress knights. Strike by strike control of the harbor was slowly regained. 

When the dock narrowed into the bridge to the city, a blip of red just out of reach again caught her eye. The former professor recognized the mess of pink hair before she recognized the relic that beheaded an enemy. With Freikugel covered in blood and resting upon her shoulder, Hilda Goneril cut the figure of the warrior she was supposed to be, instead of the delicate flower she claimed to be. 

As the line overtook Goneril to secure the chokepoint, she turned. "Professor!" An extreme look of annoyance was replaced with a blood-spattered grin. "So you _ were _the one who fell from the sky. I see you’re tangled into Claude's schemes again."

Safely behind the formation of shields and archers, the former mercenary wiped at the dull ache in her temple, checking for an injury. While her fingers became damp, they weren't covered in the telltale red of blood when inspected. 

“Hey now, Teach was one of my _ many _ options." von Riegan insisted, his voice perhaps only a step or two behind. "Name the last time my backup plan didn't have a backup plan of its own."

"Whatever you say, Leaderman. Oh! Now that we have the professor I should probably fall back. I wouldn't want my inferior skills to get in her way."

Their bickering continued even as another wave of Imperials approached the bridge.

Von Riegan gave a mocking gasp. "No need, Hilda. I wouldn't dare deny you the opportunity to bond with Teach. I'm sure you've missed her as much as anyone else." The Ashen Demon took a single step ahead of the defensive formation. “Especially—” 

One crack from the extended Sword of the Creator across the chokepoint struck down the initial encroaching line. A step backward to rejoin the defenders followed. 

“Archers Fire!” At the Master Tactician’s command, archers launched a volley to thin their numbers. "Especially, after coming all that way down just to see us. Which reminds me; if I were doing the rescuing, it would have left quite the impression." The two forces collided. A bladed fist weapon swung at the former mercenary’s midsection but became caught on the bone ridge of her relic. "Imagine, a sky full of wyverns. Impressive on their own, but nothing compared to the archers ready to rain down destruction upon your foes." Into the air, she parried the brawler's arm. Activating the Crest of Flames, the Ashen Demon pushed forward. The enemy was knocked off their feet, allowing the tip of her relic to end their life. "Much more effective than the pegasus you opted to use, and flashier." 

As she reset her stance the ache in her head intensified into a throb. Truthfully, the root of the pain was just as likely Duke von Riegan's incessant chatter as it was the blow to her head.

The former mercenary broke her intentional silence. "Were you this mouthy with Hanneman?"

She took the laughter that bellowed behind her as his answer. Over the next half-hour, the pattern of repelling Imperial troops continued. The Master Tactician was never silent for long; either adjusting his forces or bantering away. 

When a series of white banners crossed the bridge, the 'archbishop' took command of the harbor from the duke. An eternity afterward a handful of blue banners approached the bridge; a sign that the day had been won.

Eyeing a stack of crates to lean against, the former mercenary fell back for a hard-earned rest. Though her headache had vanished, it had been replaced with a general sense of fatigue from battle. Upon the dock she sat, only to be joined moments later by Duke von Riegan. 

"My friend," Claude squeezed her shoulder, his tone was strangely melancholy. "I'm grateful you came. If only I had your strength from the start. Ah well, there's no use dwelling on what-ifs." 

"We have one another's strength now." Byleth reminded him. "The Master Tactician and the Ashen Demon; how it should have been all along. Your schemes...my execution of them. The Empire has no chance." 

"Right…" He ran his gloved fingers through his hair. For the first time since her father's passing a silence lingered between them. 

* * *

Volkhard von Arundel was dead. Though Felix could not take credit for the final blow, the swordsman had witnessed the bastard's disturbing transformation and subsequent death with his own eyes.

Surrounded by mounted knights, 'Commander Fraldarius' trotted through the city to the ocean harbor. His attention, however, was not on the sights of the aquatic capital. There had been a hope that with the Imperial regent's capture battleplans or a clue concerning Archbishop Rhea's whereabouts could be wrung. Those hopes were dashed. Instead, a question gnawed at the edges of his mind. How was Lord von Arundel and the white-eyed mage one and the same? 

Old diplomatic manuscripts, baseless academy rumors, business interactions involving the regent which his father had prattled on about. Felix analyzed everything he could remember involving the Adrestian Empire. Yet nothing explained what he'd seen. Nothing explained why the white-eyed mage had stolen five years from Byleth during the original defense of Garreg Mach. 

Shaking his head, Felix forced his thoughts away from the past. Byleth had come back, day by day those five long years were being made up for, and thanks to the day's events there was one less enemy conspiring to harm her. That was the present. 

Eventually, the stone street became a wooden bridge. Considering Derdriu had been successfully defended, the area was eerily quiet. Fortunately, there was no need for dread. It barely took a sweep of the harbor to spot a streak of mint hair. His intended and two of the three former house leaders stood near a stack of crates. 

After dismounting 'Commander Fraldarius' abandoned the knights meant to protect him. Just as he began to approach the trio, they dispersed. Duke von Riegan walked to the end of a dock with Byleth following suit not a minute later. Meanwhile, the Boar turned in Felix's direction. To his disbelief, the beast was carrying Failnaught, the relic of House Riegan. Something _ was _ amiss. 

Resisting the urge to hasten his pace, the swordsman soon crossed paths with the Boar, mounting his steed. "Rest while you're able, Felix. There is yet another long night ahead of us." The beast shook his head, his lone blue eye was wide with shock. "The Alliance...the Leicester Alliance is ours." 

Felix stopped dead in his tracks. In the preceding war councils, it had been assumed or at least expected that providing assistance to the Leicester Alliance would result in...an alliance. The point of the operation was to rescue Derdriu, not subjugate it.

"What do you mean...the Leicester Alliance is ours? Speak concisely, Boar." He demanded, fearing the beast had acted recklessly. 

"Concisely you say." The Boar audibly exhaled. "With previous approval from the roundtable conference, Claude will be stepping down as head of the Leicester Alliance as of midnight. He's intent on dissolving the Alliance then exiling himself. Negotiations to absorb the independent territories will begin tomorrow." 

Felix had no words. While the Boar's sanity was still in question, his explanation lined up with everything the swordsman had observed. The severity of the coming days suddenly occurred to him. The Blaiddyd heir was no Loog and he was no Kyphon. Yet they had the opportunity to achieve what generations of their ancestors, with more amicable ties, could not.

"The original Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, reunited." The Boar slowly nodded in response. "Then we better not screw this up."

Without a farewell, the two continued on their separate paths. Nearing the dock where Byleth sat, the already few groups of soldiers thinned until it was empty. Between the perceptions of the former mercenary and the soon to be former duke, it was a question of when not if they would notice his approach. So when his intended's voice became barely audible, Felix didn't risk further movement. 

"Your dreams again." Byleth's head remained fixed on the ocean as she spoke. "What part of your dreams can't be achieved here in Fódlan? Reconsider. We can still do great things together." 

Claude's reply was inappropriately jovial. "No can do I'm afraid. I know you can't see it, but I do. I've used my ties to Fódlan to their fullest. It's time for me to approach my dreams from a different angle." When the man turned his head, Felix thought he'd been caught. Yet his presence wasn't pointed out. "I was always going to be an outsider. But you. I trust you can guide his Kingliness." 

The moment her friend stood, Byleth sprang to her feet and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. When an emotion flared in Felix, it was an urge to comfort his intended not jealousy. Claude again turned his head. This time the two men locked eyes with one another. Only then did he complete Byleth's embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

Claude von Riegan's signature smile fell into a deep frown. "Please, my friend...don’t make this more difficult on me." Lowering her head, Byleth murmured something into her friend's shoulder. "Only to my homeland. Believe me. One day our dawns will rise and we'll meet again. Until then, my friend."

Their embrace ended. While Byleth remained in place with her head lowered, Claude approached Felix with his own head held high. With a wide smile, the soon to be former duke slapped his shoulder.

"Enjoy your sunrise, Felix." Claude offered before dropping his voice to a whisper. "Hurt Teach and there won't be a title in Fódlan that can protect you."

Crossing his arms, Felix whispered a warning of his own. "Hurt Byleth in one of your schemes and the last thing you'll see is my blade."

Ever the defiant schemer, Claude von Riegan merely laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: It is the 10th of the Garland Moon at the end of this chapter


	29. The End of the Alliance (Garland Moon 1186)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No battle is won without consequences.

Though drained physically and emotionally, Byleth started into the darkness above her, waiting for sleep to arrive. Rest had seldom come easily to the former mercenary after a battle, but tonight was different. Tonight the culprit for her restlessness was not overanalyzing the battle, but the ache in her temples.

Turning onto her side, Byleth embraced an extra pillow on the otherwise empty bed. Like any other night, Felix had reluctantly retired into his own room. Fortunately, a scent of pine, although faint, still remained. 

Ever a protector, her swordsman had remained by her side after Claude had…. Whatever he had done Byleth was still processing. But afterward, Felix had been there. Publicly, he had scowled and loudly grumbled against the necessity of sharing a horse. Only then to tightly wrap an arm around her waist, and physically relax once mounted together. Against her ear the promises her swordsman made were simple but heartfelt; a hot bath, a warm meal, and her absolute privacy. The man had fulfilled each of those promises himself, putting the offer to tell interlopers to 'fuck off' to frequent use.

The chuckle that left Byleth's lips from the memory was ruined by another dull throb. With a groan, she rolled onto her back and covered her head with Felix's pillow replacement.

Deep into the night, her swordsman had lingered beside her in bed. A goodnight kiss preceded another promise by Felix; that everything would be alright. Byleth slowly sat up and threw the pillow onto the floor in frustration. _ How many hours have passed since then? If I can't sleep...I mind as well be productive. _

After easing herself out of bed, Byleth dressed, then stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. Her destination; the roundtable conference room. The treck of the first floor was uneventful. A single motion from 'Archbishop Eisner' and the two white-clad knights guarding the stairwell stepped aside. Halfway between the first and second floors, the lit scones along the walls became slightly blurry, but she persisted ahead. 

Nearing a landing, a large shadow began to descend. It was a rare occurrence for His Highness to be without his imposing, black armor. Actually, that statement applied to most who surrounded Byleth.

"Professor? Er, I mean archbishop." He stammered "I see I'm not the only one who sleep eludes tonight. Is something ailing you?"

Even when he was a single step above her, his tied-back blonde hair and black eye-patch did not fully come into focus.

Gingerly, Byleth shook her head. "Only restless. Another night of fighting?" 

"Only when I close my eyes. I believe it when you say the dead aren't real; however, at times they seem not to care." The prince shook his head and offered her his hand. "Perhaps we can help one another. I can walk with you, and you can keep reminding me who is real."

Accepting his offer, Byleth squeezed the prince's hand. Once she released it, instead of continuing her ascent, she diverted her path back down the stairs where His Highness had been headed. 

At the end of a first-floor hallway, they exited into a courtyard. There had been a slight spring chill in Fhirdhad that was entirely absent in Derdriu. In fact, when compared to Garreg Mach, the Alliance capital already felt deep into the Verdant Rain Moon, instead of the Garland Moon that lit their path. 

For a brief time the warm, salty air refreshed Byleth but the reprieve was short-lived. Her head swam. Though the path was visibly flat she stumbled, crashing against the prince's frame.

"Professor!" Before she could regain control, His Highness already had an arm around her. "Let's get you inside to a medic."

"I'm fine Dimitri. I was dizzy for a moment." It was another blatant lie, Byleth still felt lightheaded.

As if she were nothing more than a doll, the prince lifted her effortlessly into his arms. "You say that. I for one would rather be certain. After everything we've been through, I cannot afford to lose you to your stubbornness." 

* * *

While the individual territories of the Leicester Alliance were ruled by various noble families, the republic itself was...had been governed by five major houses; House Riegan, House Goneril, House Gloucester, House Ordelia, and House Edmund. From the windowsill Felix was using as a makeshift chair, he glanced at the representatives from four of those five houses gathered in the roundtable conference room. 

Of those seated at the table, Felix could only name two; Hilda Goneril, and the Boar. The latter now occupied the seat once used by Claude von Riegan, as evidenced by the moon-like crest engraved into the oaken chair.

When the beastly prince stood and began addressing those assembled, Felix quirked his brow. Byleth was curiously absent.

"Good morning. The purpose of today's negotiations is by no means only the vassalization of the former Leicester Alliance."

Then again when it came to politics, the former mercenary would be at a loss. Not to mention how 'Archbishop Eisner' would be no better than Archbishop Rhea if she were to meddle in the internal politics of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. 

"As a wise woman has continually counseled me; this war hangs in a delicate balance. With the reclamation of Fhirdhad and the ongoing reunification of Faerghus that balance has been tipped in our favor."

Mentally, Felix kicked himself. Had he known of the 'wise woman's' absence earlier, the morning could have been spent differently. While there would certainly be a break or two over the course of the day there was no telling if Byleth would be available during them. 

Instead of stealing a few moments of privacy with his intended, Felix had spent the morning brooding. 

"But make no mistake, those scales _ can _ tip again. Regardless of a decision to bend a knee, we all must stand together. If not we risk falling separately."

Even now being present at these negotiations irritated Felix. Had his father been alive it was the sort of task he'd insist was the duty of House Fraldarius. Until his last breath, devotion to his liege had been his old man's life after all. Devotion to House Blaiddyd was not the reason Felix forced himself to aid his father's favored son, however. Loathe as the swordsman was to admit, the handful of people he wanted to protect were depending on the Boar's human performance. Spiting the dead would never be worth turning his back on the living.

"I believe House Gloucester has the opening remarks for the former Leicester Alliance." The beastly prince took his seat, handing the floor over.

Over the next hours, the former Alliance representatives, except predictably Hilda, laid out a series of obvious embellishments. It was their claim that the Kingdom of Faerghus needed the former Alliance territories more than they needed the Kingdom of Faerghus. 

Admittedly at points, Felix zoned out on the conversation itself. His task after all was to be on the guard for cracks in the Boar's facade, not to broker an agreement.

It was as the Gloucester delegate droning about the 'prestigious history' of their house that the roundtable conference room's door flew open. The swordsman nearly drew his blade on the mountain of a man that entered. His hand was only stayed because of the man's long, pink, braided beard; a sure sign of Goneril blood. 

“I see all the fun was had before I could arrive!” With a grin as broad as his shoulders, the man began to stride towards the table. “Baby sister!”

When Hilda rose from her chair it more than confirmed Felix’s suspicion. The man before him was not _ a _ Goneril, but Duke Holst Edward Goneril; the former Alliance’s greatest general.

“Holst!” As the two siblings embraced, Felix resettled himself on the windowsill. “I thought you were tied up at the Locket. What are you doing here?”

"When a wyvern rider comes for you personally, it's hard to say no. I assumed 'assisting Teach' meant with tactics, but here we are." The duke shrugged his shoulders. "Speaking of, where is your professor?"

"Yes, Prince Blaiddyd. Where _ is _ this Ashen Demon of yours?" The question was asked haughtily by the Gloucester delegate. 

The gaze of the entire room fell upon the beastly prince.

"Former professor, Duke Goneril." Felix bit his tongue at the Boar's correction. The former Blue Lions always addressed Byleth as 'Professor', but the beast never seemed to mind. "At this time Archbishop Eisner—" 

"Temporary archbishop, _ Boar Highness _." Amusingly, not a single person in the room seemed to notice his small act of defiance.

"At this time the _ temporary _ archbishop is unable to take visitors." _ What do you mean _ unable? "Of course, this is no slight. Both the war effort and the officers on both sides would benefit from a discussion between Fódlan's two best military minds." 

A scoff came from the Gloucester delegate. "And after all the stories of a mere commoner in command. Such a pity." 

A faint sound of wood cracking followed the palpable sarcasm. 

The swordsman prepared himself to intervene. Though the Boar was only squeezing his chair there was no telling what was next. The beast's madness needed to remain hidden, especially if something had happened to Byleth. 

"A break...seems appropriate. We can reconvene in two hours" When the beast stood Felix mirrored the action. "That should allow enough time for a meal and for the duke to be brought up to speed." 

As was annoyingly customary of business matters, it took several minutes of prattling for the Boar to extract himself. After an entire hallway and half of a stairwell separated them from the conference room, the beast was the first to speak up. 

"Our time needs to be spent listing the Kingdom's assets. I can't imagine the Alliance reuniting under House Gloucester. But Lord Holst…."

At one point, it was widely believed that the Goneril heir would succeed Oswald von Riegan as the head of the Alliance. That was before Claude was legitimized, however. 

"You're in a delusion if I'm being sent to convince him, Boar." Felix paused before continuing. The last thing he needed was to sound anxious about Byleth's health. "Should we list our former professor as an asset? You said she was unable, not unavailable to take visitors. Has something happened?" 

"According to Mercedes, it's only a concussion, but…." The beastly prince ran a hand through his hair. "She suffered one previously at Grondor Field...so I was told. Anyway, Mercedes recommended that the archbishop rest as a precaution. To ensure that, she is being confined to her room." _ Byleth would keep working if not kept in check. Damnable, stubborn woman. At least there's no emergency. _"Felix, are we over-relying on her? Have we placed too much responsibility on her shoulders?"

"You just realized that? It's always been this way. Your head has just been shoved so far up your delusion that…." _ Berating the Boar doesn't help Byleth. _ "Neither of us can reverse time. What's done is done. We should have the professor delegate her workload. Her tactics and blade are the most important things after all."

The beast chuckled. "I'll give you her tactics, but unfortunately you're undervaluing her role as archbishop. If not for her control over the Knights of Seiros, they would likely be roaming the countryside tracking Archbishop Rhea." Reachingthe bottom of the stairwell, Felix broke off towards where the officers were quartered. "I thought we had agreed to work on listing those assets."

"This isn't Garreg Mach. Our professor can't force me to work by your side even if our assignment is the same."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might get an update when I get my wind back.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally made a [twitter account](https://twitter.com/saviana572) to link this series so *shrug*


End file.
